If I Let You Go
by LornaWinters
Summary: Elnor longed to leave Vashti. Life was passing him by while he lingered on this forsaken planet. But when offworlders in trouble turn to the Qowat Milat for help, he suddenly doesn't want to leave. Elnor/OC. Slightly AU
1. Stalling

Once a modest, yet prosperous colony in the middle of nowhere, Vashti was _still_ in the middle of nowhere.

It was a world of breathtaking natural beauty, though it offered few resources. When its population swelled with Romulan refugees from the collapsing Star Empire, it sank into a place of poverty, degradation, and ethnic strife.

Elnor was one of those refugees. He barely remembered Romulus or his parents. For most of his life, he identified as the foundling child raised by the nuns.

His fate had been better than many on Vashti. He'd never gone hungry – at least, not unless he chose to. He often followed the nuns' example by giving away his meals to those less fortunate than himself. That very afternoon, he'd given his lunch to a hungry little girl whose parents were too caught up in their own problems to notice her. His stomach rumbled to remind him of his good deed. He understood all too well that the same fate might have also been his.

Of course, Elnor was grateful for all that he had. And yet…

He longed to leave Vashti. Life was passing him by while he lingered on this forsaken planet. Here he was, nearly twenty-five, and still living with the nuns. He'd completed his training last spring, and now...what was he going to do? He couldn't stay with the nuns forever. Even if he'd been born female, he was pretty sure that wasn't the life he wanted.

High above the North Station village, he crouched on a rocky ledge and watched the moon rise, feeling the arid desert wind on his face change from heat to cold with the fading light. Already, its pale form dominated a quarter of the sky. Behind him, the setting sun bathed the cliff side in golden hues, casting tall shadows. He watched the shade creep out from the chinks and chasms of the rock face. In a few days, the moon would eclipse the sun and cover his little part of Vashti in darkness for several weeks.

And, he would turn twenty-five.

He needed to speak with Zani about this matter. Sooner or later, he must grow up and make his own way. Surely, she could understand that? At the same time, he felt afraid to step out on his own. Absolute Candor had been ingrained in him, yet why was it so hard?

A low rumbling sound announced a landing ship at the nearby space port. Grateful for the interruption, he studied the strange vessel. He'd never seen a ship like that before, though it hardly surprised him. While Vashti received few visitors, those who came proved an eclectic bunch. From smugglers and gangsters to the Fenris Rangers, even an occasional Klingon, they hailed from all parts of the Beta Quadrant - and beyond.

If he really wanted to find out, he could seek out Tenqem Adrev at the Romulan Social Club. The former senator would tell him everything he might want to know about the visitors – plus a whole lot more.

But Elnor decided against that course, at least for the time being. Adrev was deeply entrenched in the Romulan Rebirth Movement. The group had good intentions, but Elnor disapproved of their racial leanings. Discussions with members almost always deteriorated into bigotry, so he avoided them as much as possible.

He sighed. He was delaying. Sooner or later, he must speak his mind to Zani. Absolute Candor demanded it.

All the same, he took his time climbing down the cliff. The darkness deepened, and it became difficult to find footholds and ledges. He welcomed the hardship – it was easier than dwelling on his dissatisfaction with life.

By the time he entered under the boughs of the great tree that sheltered the Qowat Milat order, most of the sisters had retired to their chambers for the evening. The time for lengthy discussions had passed.

If Elnor was honest with himself, he'd admit he planned it that way.

Only a single light in the common area had been left on. Drawing aside the sheer curtain, he caught the aroma of hot soup that had been left out for him. His stomach rumbled again.

"Clean the pot when you're finished," Zani called from her chamber.

He started. "I will," he answered, not concealing his annoyance. He wasn't a child who needed to be reminded to do the obvious!

After he'd eaten and cleaned up, he felt a little ashamed of his impatience. It seemed to prove that Zani might be correct in viewing him as a moody teenager. Fasting always had that effect on him.

He shook his head. She'd made no such accusation in years – it was all his own fears creating these scenarios in his mind. The truth was that his irritability was the result of his refusal to take action.

He stretched out onto his bed, listening to the rusting leaves above and the soft tinkling of chimes blowing in the gentle night wind. _No more stalling_, he resolved. First thing in the morning, he would speak with Zani.


	2. Visitors

Elnor splashed cold water onto his face. Sunlight streamed through the sheer curtains. Though the day promised to be quite warm later on, his skin turned a few shades greener as he washed in the chilly morning air. He'd slept surprisingly well, considering all that weighed on his mind.

Voices drifted along the gnarled tree roots from the common area. His heart sank. They had visitors. That meant one more delay. Unlike yesterday, he didn't feel relieved. Impatience tightened in his shoulders.

"Better go see who they are," he groaned to himself. One of the voices sounded Romulan, though judging by his accent, he wasn't a local. "So much for an ordinary day."

He moved along the breezeway in silence, trying to glean information about the visitors before he was noticed. Through the gauze curtains he saw Zani and a few other sisters listening to the visitors.

"I am grateful for your hospitality, sisters," said the leader, sipping the customary drink.

Elnor crept closer, trying to get a better look. Then the creaking wood under his step gave him away. Everyone turned to look at him.

The leader, who was indeed a Romulan, examined him.

"Ah, Elnor," said Zani, "this is Prince Tristan of Nua Breizh."

"I've never met a prince before," said Elnor, speaking his first thought. He'd never heard of any Romulan princes, either, not even before the Star Empire fell.

The prince raised a brow. "I've never met a _male_ Qowat Milat," he returned.

"I'm not Qowat Milat."

Zani explained, as she'd done many times over the years. "He's our ward. We have trained him in our ways, though naturally, he is not a member of our order."

Satisfied with the explanation, Tristan returned his attention to Zani. "As I was saying, Sister, we hope we're not imposing on your hospitality..."

Elnor's attention drifted away from the conversation as he studied the other visitors. It was then that he noticed the others were Terrans. Two tall men, older than their prince - and a beautiful young girl about his own age.

Everyone else had turned back to the conversation, but her sea green eyes remained on him. Her auburn curls spilled over her soft skin. She was as fresh as the delicate flowers he often saw blooming in the morning on the cliffs that towered above the sanctuary.

Elnor caught his breath.

Realizing he was staring at her, he quickly looked away. Instead, he pretended to be absorbed in the discussion and studied Tristan. _He's only part Romulan_, he realized. That might have explained his being a prince, except he thought there were no more Terran royals – not in over a century. And he'd never heard of Nua Breizh.

Who _were_ these people? Who was that beautiful girl?

Tristan gestured toward her. "This is my cousin, Princess Julene. Actually, she's like a younger sister to me."

Elnor felt his shoulders relax, only then becoming conscious of the fact that they'd been tensing upward toward his ears. It occurred to him this Julene might be affianced or wedded - whatever these royals called it – to Tristan. That they were cousins, and that he was considerably older than she was, didn't rule out the possibility.

"We must travel to South Station for parts to repair our ship's engines," Tristan explained.

The information was correct. Being a larger settlement, most of the repair and supply shops were at South Station. The only one in North Station had gone out of business the previous winter. Elnor noticed one of the Terrans was more burly than the other and guessed he must be their mechanic.

"Based on the reports, that part of Vashti isn't a place I wish to bring Julene." Tristan hesitated, then continued. "I don't wish to speak ill of your village, sisters, but I don't believe North Station is safe, either."

"It isn't," Zani agreed. "And we are not offended. This is a house of truth."

"She would be safe here," Elnor blurted out. "I – _we,_ can look after her." He wasn't sure if Zani would approve or not, but he wanted Julene to stay.

"I confess, that's the exact favor I meant to ask of you," said Tristan.

Zani looked at Elnor with surprised curiosity. It made him feel as though he was begging her to keep a stray animal they'd just found as a pet.

Glancing back to Julene, her eyes again met his, this time twinkling with hope. She wanted to stay, too. Dare he believe it was because of him?

"She has nowhere else to go," he told Zani, in Romulan, forgetting that Tristan probably understood him anyway.

"Speak English in the presence of our visitors," she chided gently.

"We are, of course, pleased to make a donation to your Order to compensate for your assistance." The prince _did_ understand Romulan, though he didn't further embarrass Elnor by admitting it.

"You are welcome here, Princess," Zani said at last, "though I hope you understand our living standards are simple. Some may consider them austere."

Julene smiled. "I have been brought up as a servant of my people. I'm happy to abide by the rules of the Qowat Milat, and expect no special treatment."

It was the first time she'd spoken, and her voice surprised him at how rich and clear it sounded. She wasn't at all shy. With every moment, his interest in her grew.

"Very well," said Zani. "It is settled."

South Station was a three-day journey, one way. Tristan and the Terrans had to leave soon to reach their first stopover before dark. Elnor wasn't sorry to see them go. All these excessive social niceties grated on his nerves. He hoped Julene wasn't so aristocratic.

She and Tristan said their goodbyes in what sounded like French. Not that Elnor knew much about Terran languages. But a French Terran had once been like a father to him, and there were many French words in _The Three Musketeers._ He pushed Picard from his mind, reminding himself the admiral wasn't coming back.

It struck him how much Tristan cared for his younger cousin. He could tell the prince still felt apprehensive about leaving her. Elnor didn't blame him. North Station definitely had its unsavory elements. "She will be safe here," he assured him a second time.

Tristan bowed. "I can't thank you and the sisters enough."

Only after they left did Elnor remember his original intention to ask Zani about leaving Vashti. Now, he wanted nothing more than to stay.

Now, all he cared about was Julene.


	3. Getting To Know You

"Did you never know your mother and father?" Julene asked, her pretty green eyes wide with curiosity.

She and Elnor had slipped out after the midday meal and climbed to the top of the cliffs because she wanted a closer look at the waterfall. They rested after their climb, dangling their legs over the edge.

"My parents were killed in the service of the Empire." Elnor lowered his eyes. "My last grandparent died in the war with the Dominion. That's all I was told. I have no other family that I know of." He didn't feel like mentioning the admiral who'd left him there with the nuns. After all, Picard wasn't really his family.

"Oh...I'm sorry."

"Don't be." He sat up straight. "It's an honor to be trained in the fighting arts of the Qowat Milat, without having to commit to the order." He got to his feet. "Ready to see the waterfall now?"

"Yes, of course." She took his hand and let him pull her up. "You're as strong as my cousin, aren't you?"

Elnor felt blood rush to his cheeks. It wasn't as though he never talked to girls his age in the settlement, or that they didn't flirt with him on occasion. They just didn't react to him in the same way Julene did. Or, was it that he didn't react to the other girls the way he reacted to Julene?

He shrugged. "I suppose so." It was generally known that Romulans were physically stronger than humans. Many Romulans believed that made them superior, but Elnor understood there were other forms of strength.

They made their way around the cliff edge toward the rushing river. He'd taken the longer way up since he wasn't sure about her climbing skills. It was a good thing she knew enough not to wear any of her finery on Vashti, and instead wore simple, yet quality clothing. Elnor didn't have the faintest idea what a princess might normally wear, but was glad he didn't have to worry about ripping frilly, latinum-spun gowns.

She didn't move over the boulders and through the crevices as easily as he did, but she kept up a decent pace.

"You're in good shape yourself."

The mischievous twinkle in her eye nearly took his breath away. "You think a princess doesn't get outdoors much?"

"I don't know _what_ a princess does," he confessed.

She sighed. "Most of my day is spent with tutors. I like to learn, but it gets exhausting." Then the twinkle returned. "But when lessons are over I love to ride my horse along the seashore. We sometimes race the waves. She's as fast as the wind!"

Elnor had read about horses in _The Three Musketeers, _and with a twinge of sadness he remembered Picard promised to teach him how to ride some day. He forgot his disappointment, however, when Julene continued.

"Her name is Iberia, and her mane is so beautiful, the color of a sunset."

"Like your hair?"

Now it was Julene's turn to blush. "Well, almost. Iberia's is darker, though."

They walked the rest of the way in silence.

"I didn't mean to embarrass you," he said, when they reached the river's edge. "Absolute Candor dictates that I should speak my mind. I meant no disrespect, princess."

"Please, call me Julie. That's what my friends call me." She began to remove her boots.

Elnor remembered that Tristan had called her that when they'd spoken French - or whatever their language was. "I'd like to be your friend, Julie."

Where they stood, the bank of the river was sheltered by enormous boulders. Here, the clear water collected in a peaceful pool before re-joining the nearby rushing torrent that plummeted down the cliffs. The midday sun grew more intense, and there were no trees to shade them. A dip in the cool mountain water sounded refreshing.

"I don't think Zani would approve of swimming," he felt obliged to point out.

"And she would be right," Julie said, removing her socks. "It wouldn't be seemly. I only want to put my feet in the water." Even her feet and ankles were lovely.

"I suppose that's okay," Elnor agreed, swallowing a lump that formed in his throat.

She looked up. "Aren't you hot, too?"

"A little." He sat next to her and removed his boots, laying his sword beside him. The water provided a welcome relief to the day's heat. "It gladdens my heart that you like it here. This place is special to me."

"You come here when you want to be alone."

He nodded. "Or when it's hot like today."

"I see." She leaned over the water and cupped some into her palms. "Maybe you need to cool off more?" Then she splashed her handful right into his face.

At first, he was so surprised she'd do that he didn't know how to react. But her girlish giggle disarmed him, and he found himself laughing with her. "Really?" He scooped a larger handful and sloshed it in her direction. "'I'm hot, Elnor. Let's put our feet in the water,'" he mimicked her feminine pitch.

"I don't sound like that." She laughed and splashed him again.

"Yes, you do!"

"You know, that's the first time I've seen you smile. I knew you couldn't be all seriousness."

Still smiling, he leaned back on the boulder and watched her swirl her fingers in the water. She hummed softly, almost to herself. He hadn't felt this content in many years.

Just as he was starting to relax, a deep, menacing voice interrupted. "Jolan true."

By instinct, Elnor jumped to his feet and drew his sword.

Tenqem Adrev, former Romulan Senator of the Empire turned influencer in the Romulan Rebirth Movement, stood on the boulder above them.

Elnor cursed himself for letting his guard down. No one had snuck up on him in a very long time - not since he'd reached the higher levels of his training. But Adrev wasn't an enemy. He sheathed his sword. "What are you doing here?"

Like everyone else on Vashti, Adrev carried a weapon, a disruptor in his case. But he didn't draw it, and Elnor had no reason to suspect he would. "I could ask the same question of you, young Elnor," he said, not changing to English. "And, I might add, what are you doing with this round-eared girl?"

He bristled at hearing a racial slur referring to Julie. "Don't call her that. She's a guest of the Qowat Milat."

"Who is she?"

"That's _our_ business."

"She looks important." He rubbed the stubble on his chin. "Did you hear a half-Terran prince was in town yesterday? He was looking for engine parts. His ship is docked in the space port hangar."

"I heard about him," Enor answered, comprehending why many people chose to lie.

Adrev returned a thin smile. "That's what I thought." He turned to leave, then stopped. "You're fortunate that it was I who discovered you with your little songbird, and not someone else. Guard her well. I don't need to remind you there are those who wouldn't hesitate to act if a Qowat Milat let his guard down. A princess commands a lavish ransom indeed."

"Jolan true," he ground out, reminding the elder he was leaving.

"Jolan true, young Elnor." Adrev walked away toward the path leading back to North Station. His hearty guffaw echoed through the rocky landscape a minute later.


	4. Whisperflies and flarewings

Many years had passed since Tristan encountered so many other Romulans. Thirteen years, in fact, when Romulan refugees settled on a planet near his homeworld of Nua Breizh. Once they'd settled, they preferred to keep to themselves, and Tristan's mother allowed them their autonomy. Other than a few merchants, Tristan saw little of them.

He did know, however, that those Romulans fared much better than these on Vashti. It saddened him to see his father's proud people reduced to this depravity. One minute, filthy bare-footed children tried to pickpocket him. The next moment, weakened elders begged him for money – of which he had none. He'd read about other places where citizens carried physical currency, yet seeing such primitive financial practices continued to bewilder him. Zani assured him the parts merchants and other larger operations were flexible in regards to payment, otherwise he would've worried they'd be stuck on this forsaken rock.

Even more distressing, he'd offered to give one beggar an unopened package of food – and she not only refused, but swore at him and dashed off down the street, yelling a string of profanities. A band of thugs had already attacked them earlier that morning. Fortunately, they chased off the ruffians and came through the hills unscathed.

The trio reached the town of Erostay. Really, it was more like a rubble composed of lean-tos and shanties. The next settlement was miles off, and the sky grew dark. Ominous clouds rolled in ahead of the night. There was no going any further until morning.

Through it all, Tristan managed to keep an outward appearance of calm. Then it started to rain. Herve, his ship mechanic, huddled next to him under an awning in a futile effort to stay dry. Suddenly, the door next to them was wrenched open and an angry woman chased them off her "porch."

They were forced to stand in the open rain. Vehicles splashed mud (and Tristan refused to consider what else) on them as they zoomed past, rushing through Erostay as quickly as possible. He clutched his traveling cloak around his chilled body, but otherwise maintained a stoic acceptance of the situation.

A cigar would've been nice right about now. Hell, he'd settle for a cheap cigarette. A strong drink wouldn't hurt, either.

He took comfort in the thought of his dear Julie, and congratulated himself for putting her up with the nuns. She would have endured these hardships without complaint, he felt certain. All the same, he felt better for not having to witness her go through the experience.

His aide approached from across the street. "Prince," he whispered, "I've procured lodgings for the three of us." He hesitated.

Tristan understood. He'd already anticipated the problem. "It is sufficient, Paol," he assured him.

The lodgings turned out to be a dank hostel. Their room consisted of five beds, two of them already occupied by a couple of snoring middle-aged Romulan travelers. They seemed harmless enough, but Tristan had experienced enough of Vashti by now to know that he shouldn't make any assumptions.

"I'll take the first watch," he whispered. Before they could object, he held up a hand. "I insist." Since he was half-Romulan, he could go longer without sleep than his human companions. He especially didn't want Herve to find himself spent when bargaining for parts to repair the _Altan_.

It didn't take long for Paol and Herve to drift off and join the others in the snoring contest. Between their snorting and the drips from the leaking roof, falling asleep would've been difficult anyway. It was going to be a long night.

Tristan was grateful his parents had insisted on bringing him up with a realistic perspective of life. He worked hard during the summers, laboring along side the farmers of San Mihael. It was through his people's philosophy of hard work and self-reliance that they'd recovered from the war with the Dominion – _without_ the help of the Federation. That was something _both_ his parents could agree upon.

_Only __five or__ more days of this_, he told himself.

* * *

Adrev's mouth went dry, despite having just swallowed a swig of ale. "Zan—" He coughed a few times before catching his breath. "Zani! What brings _you_ to the Romulan Social Club? I'd ask if you've decided to re-join the rest of society, but I already know better." He winked.

Zani was not amused. "Yes, you know better."

Adrev's smile fell. "What can I do for you? Won't you sit down? Have whatever you'd like. Accept my hospitality." He remembered vividly that she had an affinity for sweets. The Club had gotten in a rare shipment of _hanifak_, and he was fully prepared to give it to her.

With the dignity of her authority, she sat across from him at the table, but she waved away the waiter.

Further disappointed, he sat back down. The former senator had also been a former suitor. But that was in another lifetime, as she reminded him at each of the few occasions when they had contact. She still looked good, even after all these years. Now that the sun had sank beneath the gathering clouds, its rays bathed Zani's lithe form in golden splendor. He almost forgot she was a warrior, as well as a religious.

Adrev would never forget her rejection of him – and it wasn't even for another man! A woman like Zani, giving herself over to religion! He still couldn't get over the bizarre irony of it all. He swallowed another mouthful of ale, hoping to get over his displeasure. It didn't work.

"I suppose that whelp came whining to you?" he grumbled. "Is that why you're here, to chastise me for frightening your boy again?" That last time had been over five years ago, and the orphan _was_ still a boy then.

"Elnor has completed his training," she warned. "His fighting skills are truly formidable. I wouldn't provoke him, Adrev."

"You should take up my offer and allow _me_ to mentor him instead of sheltering him." He knew she wouldn't like that, either, yet he pressed on anyway, brushing aside her objection along with the _whisperfly_ buzzing around his face. "What do you think will happen? The boy must leave sometime – and that time draws nearer than you want to acknowledge. The sooner he's acquainted with the ways of the galaxy, the better for him. Are you really going to chase after every person who looks at him the wrong way?"

"You mistake the reason for my visit," she snapped.

He folded his arms and leaned back in his chair, still skeptical. He'd struck a cord there. And, he enjoyed getting such a passionate reaction out of her – it was better than her usual ice cold candor. "Well?"

Zani calmed herself, refusing to waste energy on a fool. "Elnor said you mentioned other parties being interested in our guest."

"Ah, the Terran princess." He stroked his beard. The _whisperfly_ had returned, but he no longer noticed the insect. "There have indeed been... inquiries about her." He took a sip of ale, satisfied that he commanded her attention.

As she suspected, the entire North Station knew about Julene. "Who is inquiring?"

"Zani, Zani..." He waved his hands, his palms downward.

But she'd heard enough. She rose to her feet, her eyes flashing. "You may tell those 'inquirers' that they have a choice when facing the Qowat Milat. Advise them that they should chose to live. _Jolan true._"

Adrev watched her go, his foul mood sinking into anger. The _whisperfly_ landed in his palm. He closed his fingers, feeling it vibrate in a last desperate effort to escape. Then it stopped. Zani would never approve of him, no matter what he did.

So he may as well do what he wanted.

* * *

Wisps of clouds gathered into puffy blankets that veiled Vashti's moons. Darkness had fallen, and the only light came from the _flarewings_ drifting on the evening breeze across the small field.

Elnor and Julene chased the glowing insects, catching them in glass jars so Julene could get a better look at them. After the encounter with Adrev, they kept close to the Sanctuary. The massive tree towered above, extending its branches over the field as though protecting them. Elnor reveled in the thrill of pursuit – while Julene pursued the _flarewings_.

"This one is a male." Julie marveled at the creature inside the glass. "So pretty." The soft light sparkling on her face made her look ethereal.

"Yes," Elnor agreed, studying her every endearing feature.

She opened the jar and released the _flarewing_. Then she turned back to Elnor. Even in the darkness, he could see the mischievous twinkle that first stole his heart. "Let's go catch another!"

"Julie," he laughed, "we've already caught ten of them."

"Each one is special. I like to see how they're different."

Elnor didn't mind. It filled him with intense joy to lose himself in this frolic, the glow of the _flarewings_ pale compared to the radiance in his heart. Autumn leaves swirled around them in the cool air, stopping time itself. He followed her in this merry chase, not caring where it led. He would remember this magical night the rest of his life.

With as much practice as she'd had, it didn't take long for her to catch another. She studied her new find with equal curiosity as the first specimen. "See? This one _is_ different from the others. Turquoise. The others are a lighter blue."

Elnor cupped his hands around hers. Her skin felt cool and soft. "She's about to die." It felt cruel, but he knew he must tell her the truth. "The females change colors after laying their egg sacks."

"Oh," she said softly. Opening the jar, she gently set the insect down in a patch of grass. They watched its body flicker and slowly fade before at last going out.

"I'm sorry." He put an arm around her.

She straightened. "It's life. We are born, we live, we die. It's just that her life was so short. Yet how she glowed!"

"You glow, too, Julie."

As she looked up to meet his eyes, a rain drop fell on her cheek, ending the dream.

Elnor gently brushed it aside. "We should go inside."

They dashed across the field as more raindrops fell. By the time they entered the Sanctuary, the cloudburst released into a storm. Water dripped onto the wooden floor from their soaked clothes.

Namau, one of the older sisters, looked up from her mop. She didn't scold them for getting water all over the floor she'd just cleaned. Instead smiled like a mother giving her child a spoonful of nasty medicine. "You have just enough time to change before preparing the evening meal, Elnor."

Right. That was his job most nights. He nodded obediently.

"I'll help," Julene offered, taking away the disappointment that always came with doing chores. Her teeth chattered.

"I would appreciate that," he said, looking away from her wet clothes clinging to her curves. "You're shivering."

"There's a clean robe in your quarters," said Namau.

Elnor tore himself away from the alluring sight and went off to his room. The rain beat down harder. The Sanctuary curtains had been let down for the night, keeping out most of the wind and moisture. Every so often, lightning flashed, illuminating the outside world. He lit the sconce and began to dry off. He smiled to himself at the memory of that evening in the field with Julie, remembering every delightful detail. Then he tried to forget that Prince Tristan would return for her in five days.

After he'd dressed, he made his way to the small kitchen, eager to be with Julie again. He noticed Zani and Latra speaking to each other at the entrance. Latra had completed her training shortly before him. She was preparing to leave and Zani gave her blessing. Then, Latra drew her cloak around her and headed out into the storm.

"Where is she going?" he asked.

"It's best if I don't tell you now," she answered quietly. "Go and enjoy your time with your friend. But Elnor," her expression grew more serious. "Do not give your heart to this princess. Her heart is not hers to give."

His eyes fell to the floor. "I know. It's just that I've never met anyone like her before."

"I regret that we haven't given you much experience with the outside world."

"You've given me all that you have," he said. "How can I ask for more?"

She shook her head, tears welling in her eyes. But she did not permit them to fall. "You need more. But we will speak about this later. Go prepare the evening meal with Julene."

He did as she asked, his heart heavier. It wasn't hard to guess what she meant.

When he entered the kitchen, Julie sat there waiting for him. "What shall we cook for dinner?"

"We eat soup and bread for the most part." He shrugged. "I feel embarrassed. It must sound dull and poor to a princess."

She folded her arms and huffed. "Elnor! There you go with this 'princess' stuff again. As though I'm some dainty royal brat who puts on airs and thinks everyone is beneath her! Have I acted like that at all? Have I been a rude guest?"

"No," he admitted. "But you are dainty. Compared to a Romulan," he added quickly.

She pouted, though he could tell she was trying not to smile. "Soup and bread sounds delicious."

While he shaped the dough, she chopped the vegetables. He expected she wouldn't know how to prepare the _qa__q__eorlan__s_, but she skillfully removed the seeds and turned out even slices of the spongy flesh. He nodded in approval at her results, then started a fire.

"I used to work at a farm every summer on Nua Breizh with Tristan," she explained. "All members of the royal family must learn how to work, otherwise we risk distancing ourselves from the people we serve. That farm was where he taught me to ride."

He stopped stoking the coals. "Are you going to marry Tristan?"

Her mouth fell open. "No way! That would be like marrying my brother."

"Who will you marry?"

She shrugged, trying to pretend it wasn't important. "I don't know. My father hasn't arranged my marriage yet. But I don't want to talk about that now. Why do you look sad?"

"I was thinking about what you said earlier, about life being short." The coals were hot enough. He placed the dough on the grill.

She reached for another vegetable. "Life _is_ short. That's why we should make the most of the time that is given to us." She stopped chopping and placed her hand on his. "Thank you, Elnor, for being my friend."


	5. Under Blazing Suns

"Keep digging!" Adrev growled.

The wretch on the receiving end of his ire clutched his shovel, trembling in spite of the hot suns beating down on him. He was digging his own grave. No amount of pleading would save him.

"Dig!"

He pushed his shovel into the soil, not knowing what else to do.

Sitting in a chair on the veranda, Adrev turned to his guest. "As I was saying, there are far easier targets than the princess. Lower hanging fruit, as it were."

Thatos represented Kar Kantar, the most powerful warlord in the sector. He was skeptical of the proposal. "You're afraid of the Qowat Milat?"

Adrev proceeded carefully. The last thing he needed was for Thatos to suspect he might be covering for Zani. Undoubtedly, his visitor had spoken to others in the settlement and learned of his meeting with her the previous evening. "The people support the nuns. Why provoke another confrontation with them," he oiled, "when we can obtain an equally valuable prize with less effort?"

Thatos examined the ale with his good eye, thoughtfully swirling it around in his glass. He wore a patch over his damaged eye. It was said he lost it in a fight against a Jem'Hadar. Why he'd never received medical treatment for the injury was unknown. "A prince should fetch the same ransom as a princess," he conceded, finishing the blue liquid.

"Of course he will. And that doesn't rule out the princess." He refilled Thatos' empty glass. "She can't stay at the Sanctuary forever. Those nuns have no ships and we surround them. It's only a matter of time."

Thatos smiled. "And while we wait, we can collect ransom for the prince."

"Exactly." He leaned forward, drawing in Thatos' attention like a weaver pulling his knot tighter. "His family will pay. Then afterwards, when we have her, he will plead the loudest for her release."

Thatos threw back his head and laughed with delight. "Because that half-breed will know how we treat prisoners, ha ha! We can command a higher price for her. I like it!"

Adrev nodded. "That's my plan." He noticed that the underling who'd displeased him had dug a deep enough hole and continued to dig, hoping they wouldn't notice.

"May I?" asked Thatos.

"By all means."

Thatos aimed his disruptor and fired.

* * *

One of the suns blazed high, while the other hovered just on the horizon. Already, the heat was nearly unbearable. It didn't seem like it now, but in a few weeks the moons would eclipse them both and cover Vashti in darkness for a short season.

On days like this, the Qowat Milat trained before midday. It wasn't midday yet.

Elnor had trouble focusing. He parried the feigned strike – and failed to anticipate his opponent's true intention. His legs were swept out from under him. He landed on his back.

"Your enemy will not pity a yearning heart," Kerosa reminded him.

"I know!" he snapped back, angry that everyone seemed to know about his foolish feelings. "I'm already embarrassed!"

"Focus, and I won't need to remind you!"

Springing back to his feet, he landed in a fighting stance. Sweaty palms gripped the hilt of his sparring sword. He followed each breath in – and each breath out. His mind cleared. Releasing his frustration, he let his training take over his movements. He existed only in this moment.

The ground beneath his feet offered him strength, and he drew from it. That was fine for a recovery, but he knew he could not depend on the ground, either. Only the Elements controlled what the future held. He recognized that the time might come when there would be no ground to support him.

Kerosa attacked again. Elnor stepped aside and struck, landing the next point.

"That's better," she said, "but not good enough."

She was right, of course. He'd allowed himself to get distracted. If this had been a real fight he'd be dead.

After practice, he went back to his room to clean up and wrap his bruises.

He felt grateful that Julie wasn't there to see what happened, though she'd asked to watch. The heat had been intense, even earlier, and she'd decided at the last minute to help with the cleaning inside.

Humans were indeed soft, so different from Romulans. Yet Elnor discovered he liked that about Julene. He marveled at how that very aspect caused every fiber of his being to want to protect her. She was like the tiny, delicate flowers that bloomed on the cliffside. Despite his physical superiority, she held power over him. He never imagined it would be so. The thought both thrilled and terrified him.

Was this what love felt like?

He'd never visualized himself falling in love. They never talked about such matters at the Sanctuary. But the sisters always reminded him that he was not bound to their vows. Even now, Zani advised against his forming an attachment; Kerosa scolded him for a lack of focus – they didn't forbid him from falling in love.

He sank to the floor, resting on his knees. What was he going to do? If this wasn't defeat, he didn't know what was.

No, Julene must give her heart to a prince. Despite her believing otherwise, Elnor felt certain that prince would be Tristan.

* * *

Tristan folded his arms as he examined the single, large bed.

The trail had been long and rough, the suns beating down on them as they walked, driving them to the brink of exhaustion. Water proved scarce along the way, and they'd eaten the last of the food supply.

Paol and Herve stood on either side of their prince, staring in silence. They were dehydrated and in desperate need of rest. The sight of these so-called accommodations filled them with dread. The air smelled like sweat and it looked like the linens hadn't been changed in quite some time.

The innkeeper assured them there was enough room for the three of them. She hadn't lied – not exactly. The bed was large enough.

Tristan decided, however, that he was most definitely _not_ sleeping with his companions.

When questioned, the innkeeper brushed him off. "I'm old and good help is so hard to find these days." She eyed the other two. "They won't let us keep human slaves on Vashti. I must do everything on my own." With a thump, she set a lukewarm pot of mystery slop on their small table. "Eat your soup. _Jolan true_." She hobbled off.

Herve exchanged glances with Paol. "Are all Romulan women like that?"

Tristan didn't feel like discussing that particular topic at the end of the day, not when faced with the prospect that there was nowhere else for them to go. It was here or the open road. "I'll take the first watch again. You two can have the bed."

They seemed uncertain at first, but fatigue got the best of them and they didn't argue. After scarfing down the meager broth, they collapsed onto the bed and were both snoring within minutes.

He leaned against the wall and prepared himself for another rough night. More than once, he started when he felt tiny legs crawling on his arm.

When his turn came to sleep, he chose lay his head on the table. Nothing would convince him to go near that bed – even if Herve wasn't sprawled across it.

Paol still looked worn after his nap. Dark shadows were etched beneath his cheekbones.

"Have courage," Tristan assured him, grasping his shoulder. "We can do this."

* * *

"We're finding somewhere along the road to sleep tonight," Tristan announced the following morning. "Maybe we can climb one of those large trees in the distance? He peered over the surrounding boulders to get a better look.

Paol and Herve were scratching. Apparently, the bed had been infested by biting bugs.

"I would've expected this from Erostay," Herve said, rubbing the back of his neck.

"That last place _seemed_ more respectable than the shanty town," Paol agreed. "Are we so far removed from how normal people live?"

"I'm pretty sure our people on Nua Breizh don't live like this..." Tristan trailed off when he heard a twig crack nearby.

He turned to see a huge Romulan approaching them from down the road.

"_Merde_," Herve whispered.

At first, Tristan was going to tell them to keep calm. But as the traveler came closer, his intentions were clear. The disruptor in his hand left no further room for doubt.

They hastened their pace, only to spot another thug ahead. Then another. A fourth ruffian stepped out from behind the nearest boulder. All Romulans, all pointing weapons at them.

"We don't have any money," Tristan told them, in Romulan. His parents taught him not to cower in the face of death. He was a prince. Threats didn't intimidate him. Yet he did fear for his companions.

The leader grimaced, revealing a mouth half full of rotten teeth. "We want _you_, half-breed," he said, in English.

How could he have been such a fool? Ambushed on an abandoned road. Kidnapped for ransom! What could be more humiliating? Then he thought of Julene. Had they taken her, too?

He and Paol had trained in self-defense, and he expected Herve could brandish a wrench. But against disruptors? They didn't stand a chance.

Time to step up and be a leader. "I'll surrender myself if you spare my people," he said, holding up his hands.

The brute chuckled. "Of course I'll spare them. I need them to deliver the message to your idiot father."

Laughing along with their leader, the toadies shoved Paol and Herve forward. "Go! Human scum! There's a subspace relay station in the next settlement. Tell your royals that we have your prince."

So, Julene was still safe. And if he played the cards right, his men would live, too.

He watched Herve and Paol stagger down the road. His pulse raced as they dodged the rocks hurled after them. One of them hit Paol and he went face first into the dirt.

"How many does it take to deliver a message?" the leader asked his goons.

The other aimed his weapon at the fallen human. "Only one."

"No!" Tristan shouted, grabbing at the assailant's arm. He received a blow to the back in return for his act of bravery.

As he lay on the ground gasping for air, he caught a blurred glimpse of a cat-like form who joined the group. The ring of a blade drawing from its sheath echoed in his fading consciousness. He imagined he recognized the habit of the Qowat Milat.

"My friends," said a voice, "choose to live."


	6. Gypsy Rover

Elnor's mood hadn't improved. The sting of that morning's humiliating session lasted well into the afternoon and carried on until evening. He hardly saw Julene. They both got caught up in the day's chores and Sanctuary routine, hardly speaking a word to each other.

Upon observing his gloomy behavior, Zani sent Elnor out to run errands at the market. Naturally, that meant their guest couldn't come with him. As he passed the Social Club, their suspicion, that Adrev was up to no good, was reinforced.

The gang leader looked up from his game of _zhamaq. _"Jolan true, young Elnor."

Elnor returned a barely civil nod.

Adrev flashed a devious smirk, as though he knew something the young warrior did not. Elnor narrowed his eyes back in warning. Like everyone else, the older man knew the consequences of challenging the Qowat Milat.

Unmoved, Adrev turned back to his fellow players and revealed the dagger of death card, winning the round. His evil laugh echoed down the street.

Elnor continued on toward the market in a huff. He hurried through Zani's list of tasks and returned before dusk.

Julene once again helped him clean up after supper. It was as if the night already passed and the suns dawned to bring cheer back to his life. He hadn't smiled all day, but now he found himself laughing while they sloshed around suds and water.

She hummed during the lulls in their conversation, and he recognized the same tune as when they'd playfully splashed each other at the riverside. Only a few days had passed since then, and yet so much happened.

"What's that song?" he asked.

"Oh, some old Irish ballad we used to sing when we were kids."

"I thought you sing in French?"

"_Breton_," she corrected. "We borrow words from French, but it's not the same. And actually, I'm more Basque than Breton."

He wasn't interested in the nuances of Terran cultures. "It would fill my heart with joy to hear you sing this Irish ballad."

She gazed outside past the sheer curtains toward the waterfalls plummeting down the cliff. Her golden voice filled the kitchen space.

_The gypsy rover came over the hill_

_Down through the valley so shady_

_He whistled and he sang 'til the green woods rang_

_And he won the heart of a lady._

He blinked. "Your voice is beautiful, Julie. Why did you stop?"

"You have to sing the chorus with me," she insisted. "And I'll sing the verses."

"As you wish."

_Ah-dee-doo_

_Ah-dee-doo-dah-day_

_Ah-dee-doo_

_Ah-dee-day-dee_

_He whistled and he sang 'til the green woods rang_

_And he won the heart of a lady._

He followed along as best he could, trying to make sense of the ridiculous words as he committed them to memory.

_She left her father's castle gate_

_She left her own fine lover_

_She left her servants and estate_

_To follow her gypsy rover._

Elnor's face felt hot. After that second verse, he welcomed the non-nonsensical chorus, thankful for an escape from communicating the rush of emotion those lyrics stirred within him.

Light from the candles danced in her hair, the color of polished brass. He admired her pleasing features, all the while imagining himself as the gypsy rover – and Julie running away with him, far from Vashti and everything they knew.

_Her father saddled up his fastest steed_

_Roamed the valleys all over_

_He sought his daughter at great speed_

_And the whistling gypsy rover._

_He came at last to a mansion fine_

_Down by the river Claydee_

_And there was music _

_And there was wine_

_For the gypsy and his lady._

_"He is no gypsy, my Father," she cried_

_"But Lord of these lands all over_

_And I shall stay 'til my dying day_

_With my whistling gypsy rover."_

_Ah-dee-doo_

_Ah-dee-doo-dah-day_

_Ah-dee-doo_

_Ah-dee-day-dee_

_He whistled and he sang 'til the green woods rang_

_And he won the heart of a lady._

Emboldened by the song lyrics, Elnor decided it high time to find out more information about Tristan. He'd already asked her if she was going to marry the prince and she'd said no.

It wasn't that Elnor didn't believe her. She'd answered to the best of her knowledge. But there must be more to the situation. He needed to delve deeper and judge for himself how things truly stood.

"He is the son of Guenevere, the High Queen of Nua Breizh. Her _only_ son," Julie explained. "She loved a Romulan soldier, but their marriage was forbidden."

"Because he's a Romulan?"

"Because he's a _commoner. _In fact, I've heard it whispered that my father intended to marry her."

While this wasn't what he wished to hear, he checked his displeasure and waited for the rest of the story. "What changed?" He busied himself by stacking the dried plates.

"Lord Bochra," she searched her memory, "he was a commander then – liberated Nua Breizh from the Dominion. He disobeyed his orders from the Empire to do it, because he was in love with Guenevere. It was the only way they would be allowed to marry."

"There must have been other conditions," he probed.

She nodded. "Theirs is a morganatic marriage. And so, Tristan can never be king."

Elnor shook his head. "It still sounds like prejudice to me. Believe me, I see it here almost every day."

They'd finished the dishes and she sat down on one of the stools. "Perhaps there's some truth in what you say," she considered. "I don't make the rules."

Elnor lifted a brow. "But some day you will?" he ventured.

She nodded slowly. "The duty to lead our people will one day fall upon my shoulders," she admitted.

He sensed her reluctance. She didn't want him to know that. It was as though a dark cloud had descended upon the room. He tried to push past his disappointment and take a diplomatic approach. "I'm glad you told me the truth. But why didn't you want to tell me?"

"Because you already look at me like I'm some kind of porcelain doll on a pedestal." She turned away. "I just want to you to see me as an ordinary girl with some resemblance of a normal life."

He didn't know what porcelain was, but he understood the gist of her meaning well enough. "I can't do that." He moved around to see her face and smiled as he tried to catch her sea green eyes. "Even if you weren't a princess, you're anything but ordinary."

His attempt to charm didn't lighten her mood. She was pouting. "Don't mistake my meaning. It was a compliment."

She at last met his gaze, though she still appeared doubtful.

"If you knew how much I think about you, Julie, I'd be very embarrassed."

Finally, that made her smile. Her cheeks glowed. Dare he hope she thought about him as much?

He didn't get the chance to ask her. A soft gong sounded in the main area, calling everyone to the evening chants. Life in the Sanctuary passed by a strict schedule, though Elnor noticed of late that the sisters had relaxed those regulations for him.

The community filed into the temple. Elnor took his normal place among the sisters. He was happy to see Julie sit down behind him to watch the nightly ceremony. Zani kindled the incense and led their sacred incantations. Sweet smoke wafted through the temple, rolling past painted columns and out to the settlement below their mighty tree's roots.

As he intoned the familiar hymns, Elnor's mind returned to the imaginary scene by the river Claydee. He pictured himself and Julie having a picnic on soft emerald grass with music and wine. They admired the rolling valleys of Ireland and laughed together. He was a roving gypsy, and Julie the noble lady who ran away with him.

_Why not? _he asked himself._ Am I less worthy than a soldier of the old Empire?_

* * *

_Zap!_

The next few moments seemed to pass in a daze of disruptor fire and yelling. Green blood spurted everywhere amidst flashes of steel.

Tristan thought he must have blacked out. The last thing he remembered was the intense pain in his chest. He gasped for air like a fish hurled out of water.

Some time passed, though how much he couldn't guess.

Paol's face blurred into focus. "Are you alright, my prince?"

Dry, dusty air burned into his lungs, causing him to cough. At least now he could breathe. "What the hell just happened?" he croaked, as soon as he could speak.

"I saved you, Your Highness," said a feminine voice outside of his vision.

He cricked his neck to find a Qowat Milat nun crouched next to Herve, peering down at him. So, he hadn't imagined her. Glancing around, he saw two of the bandits on the ground, smothered in blood and still as death. The others must have fled.

"I am Latra," she said. "Those were Tenqem Adrev's gangsters. They meant to kidnap you for ransom."

"I gathered that. We're in your debt, Sister Latra." He rolled over onto his knees. Then his heart skipped a beat. "My cousin, Julene?"

"The princess is well. Adrev did threaten her, and we've confined her to the Sanctuary for her safety. We suspected he might pursue you instead, and I followed you here."

He got to his feet with Paol's support. Fear for his cousin's life turned to rage. "I'll kill him..."

"That will only put you both in greater danger," Latra warned. "Adrev has powerful friends, not the least of which is Kar Kantar. I would advise you to repair your ship and leave Vashti as soon as possible."


	7. In the Heat of the Night

Julene drew her blanket up to her chin, dreaming about her dashing protector.

Elnor wasn't at all what she'd expected of a Romulan. Then again, Tristan and his father were the only Romulans she knew. Yet Elnor was so different from either of them.

Her cousin was more reserved – he certainly didn't practice Absolute Candor. Tristan found no trouble expressing himself around Julene, but they were best friends who grew up together. Around others, he played his cards close to his chest, and he secretly always worried what his father thought of him. Based on what others told her, most Romulans were like that.

Elnor, on the other hand, encouraged her to express her feelings. He didn't hold it against her when she stumbled through describing them. Julene admired his goodness and his forthrightness, the way he often gave without expecting anything in return. He was like a knight in shining armor, or an elfin samurai. And, she thought as a shiver went through her, he was devilishly cute.

She wanted to tell Tristan everything about these new, thrilling feelings she discovered for Elnor. Her cousin had never been in love before, either, but maybe he might provide some insight since he was older?

But she knew she could not tell him. For the first time in her life, Tristan couldn't be her confidant in this matter. He would lecture her about duty and how she should listen to reason over her heart. And well, he was a man, too.

_As if _he_ has any room to talk! _She pulled the covers over her head for warmth against the night air, smiling to herself.

She'd never quite understood why her cousin Guenenvere sacrificed so much to marry a Romulan. Lord Bochra was a nice enough man, but Julene never saw the appeal. Granted, Bochra was older than her own father. It was hardly surprising she wouldn't understand Guenevere's attraction to him. She supposed Tristan was handsome, but she'd never looked at her best friend in that way. And, he was half-human, after all.

Now that she'd gotten to know Elnor, she decided Romulans were attractive. All she thought about every night was her new friend, and how she wished they could be more than mere friends. _What am I to do?_

A strange sound interrupted her musings. She pulled back the covers to try to discover the source of the clicking vibration. At first, she saw nothing in the darkness.

Then, a faint yellow glow appeared. A serpentine form undulated along the tree trunk. The clicks grew louder, pulsing with what sounded like hundreds of tiny legs.

Julene gasped in horror. What was _that thing_?

She wanted to scream, but forced herself to calm down. It wouldn't do for her to shriek like a baby and embarrass herself.

The creature was huge, the size of a boa constrictor – with more legs than she could count. A phosphorescent stripe glowed down its long back.

It slithered toward her bed.

"Aaaaaahh! Someone help!"

Before she finished her cry, it was on her bed.

She tried to escape toward the entry, but it seized her. She felt its multitude of legs pinning her down, tearing through her blanket.

"Let go! Let go!" she wailed.

It reared its hideous head and opened its maw, revealing knife-like teeth. At the end of its long body a venom-tipped stinger poised to strike.

A metal blade impaled its throat.

Its grip on her loosened. It was snatched off the bed and sent flying across the room, landing with a fatal thud against the tree.

Elnor scooped her up into his arms and held her close. "You're safe now," he told her, his deep voice rumbling in her ear. "It's dead."

Julene buried her face in his chest and sobbed.

"I'm here, Julie," he whispered. "You're safe now. I won't let anything harm you, my lady love. I promise." He kissed her forehead, stroking her soft, auburn hair. "I love you."

After a few moments, she stopped crying. Her tears had soaked his open shirt. "I love you, too, Elnor. I never wanted to be a queen." She savored the warmth of his skin against her cheek.

"You give me feelings I don't know what to do with. But I like it," he added.

Julene reveled in the joy of that moment. He was in love with her! It was too wonderful to be true. She wanted to stay in his strong arms forever.

She glanced over at the creature writhing on the floor, unable to repress a shudder. "What is that?"

Letting her go, he went closer to examine it. "It's a _y__ekelugh."_ Puzzled, he shook his head. "It shouldn't be here. They live in wild areas. They never venture into the settlement."

As she began to recover her nerves, she suddenly felt ashamed of herself. "Oh, Elnor. I'm sorry about the way I acted just now. I'm afraid I've put you in an awkward position. I hope you can forgive me."

"Why? You spoke your feelings. Openness is our way, remember?" He gently lifted her chin. His dark brown eyes gazed intently at hers. "You don't have to apologize for telling the truth."

The way he looked at her made her heart race. His touch sent chills down her spine. She wanted to throw her arms around his neck and kiss him.

But it wasn't right. She mustn't toy with his heart like that. In a few days time, they would say goodbye – and they'd never see each other again. Elnor had saved her life. He didn't deserve this.

"The _yekelugh_ … do you think someone released it near here? Was it," she gulped, "sent here to kill me?"

He bit his lip. "I can't think of another explanation. We should inform Zani."

It was then that Zani appeared in the doorway with a candle. "Inform me of what? What's happened?"

The room filled with light as she entered. Right away, she noticed the lifeless form oozing out dark fluid in her path.

"It attacked her," Elnor explained. "Adrev must have sent it."

Zani shook her head. "I don't think he would be this bold. He wants her for ransom. She's of no value to him dead."

Several of the other sisters had entered the room. They gaped at the dead _yekelugh_, both horrified and angry that their Sanctuary had been violated by an intruder.

"We will set a watch from now on," Zani told them.

* * *

_Meanwhile, somewhere along the perilous Arid Passage..._

Latra helped Tristan to his feet. "I will accompany you to South Station and back again. Adrev will undoubtedly make another attempt to abduct you."

Tristan dusted off the front of his tunic. "Well, I won't refuse your offer. As long as you're certain Julene is safe?"

Latra met his gaze point blank. "We can protect her better than you can. Your Highness," she added.

Tristan bit his lip. _Right__. __The tradition of Absolute Candor._ "I'm responsible for her. She's my family and very dear to me," he explained. "I won't apologize for that."

"I didn't ask you to." Cleaning off her sword, she put it away. "I suggest we take a shorter route. The Burned Pathway. It will save us a day."

Paol didn't like the idea. "It sounds dangerous."

"I wouldn't recommend it," Latra agreed, "if you weren't traveling with a Qowat Milat. It's more secluded. Fewer travelers, which means no chance for help if you run into trouble."

Tristan shrugged. "It can't be any worse than what we've already experienced here on the main road."

They made their way through rocky canyons until the path led them along a deep river gorge. "This is the Grimcola Channel," said their guide. "It leads to the Sea of Gleaming Waters. South Station is there on its shores."

"Inviting place names you have here," Herve grumbled.

Little shade meant little relief from the day's heat. Tristan pushed on, one foot in front of the other. His lips were parched. They still had some water left, but they needed it to last. It might have been nice to go for a dip in the rushing river, but those rapids looked forbidding, and their path was too high above the water anyway.

He started when a large, brown centipede-like creature half slithered, half scurried across the road.

"What was _that_?" Paol yelped.

It slinked underneath a rock, seeking shade from the oppressive sun.

"A _yekelugh," _Latra answered, amused. "It's venom will paralyze you before it lays its eggs inside your body."

"I hate this place," Paol said.

"The season of darkness approaches," she continued. "Soon, the moons will block out the daylight for many weeks. Night creatures worse than _yekelughai_ will roam the wild places of this world. But worry not," she added with a wicked smile. "They don't inhabit settlements."

"Well, then," said Tristan, straightening his shirt. "I'm pleased we decided to take the faster way."

The Grimcola Gorge widened, and with it trees grew along the trail, granting the weary travelers welcome shade. Birds sang in the trees along with the hum of insects. They relaxed somewhat, yet they knew better than to trust the lull of their seemingly tranquil surroundings.

They encountered only one other traveler all day. He was a rough-looking individual. At first, he assessed them from a distance, as though judging whether or not he might take advantage of them. But when he saw Latra's robes, he quickly changed his mind. "_Qezh!_" he hissed.

Latra narrowed her eyes at him as they passed. The stranger lowered his gaze and didn't say another word.

At last, they reached the mouth of the river, where the path continued along the cliffs high above the sea. Powerful waves crashed against the rocks far below. Tristan took a gander over the edge. One didn't want to fall that far.

One of the suns was already setting, and the other would soon follow. The boughs above them cast tall shadows across their path. The once brown dirt faded to gray in the waning light. Here, at the edge of the sea, and with the land rising high behind them, it was easier to observe that the days did indeed grow shorter.

The path narrowed as they climbed.

"Where are we staying tonight?" Tristan ventured, pushing aside saplings and low hanging branches.

Latra indicated aways across the water, where the cliff side curved and inclined upward. "I have a friend who lives near there on the bluff. She was assisted by the Qowat Milat once, and she will grant us shelter for the night."

* * *

That evening, Elnor considered how he'd almost lost Julie to the vicious insect assassin the night before.

The Qowat Milat were hanging heavy drapes in preparation for the approaching season of darkness. Though still quite hot during the daytime, some nights were already cool, and sheer summer curtains would not keep out the cold. This night, however, the suns had set and the sweltering humidity hung in the air like a wet blanket.

A full moon ascended high in the sky, the last of the season. The other satellite had nearly waned into a thin crescent behind the clouds.

Their task finished, Elnor walked through the open field with Julene.

Glancing above, she examined the thickening clouds. "Another storm?"

"I think so," he answered. "Our walk tonight will be short." Then he stopped, taking her hands into his. "Did you mean it, when you said you love me?"

Julie hesitated. "To say no would be a lie. Yes, Elnor, I love you. But– "

That was all he needed to hear. He took her into his arms and brought her lips to his. His ardor flared when he felt her arms slide around his neck. He caressed the small of her back, wishing he could have her in this moment forever.

When they pulled apart, they were both breathless. He noticed a tear rolling down her cheek. "Julie, let's run away together," he entreated, before she could speak. "Leave all of this behind us, like the Gypsy Rover song."

"Elnor … we can't do that." She pulled away from him.

"Why not?"

Her shoulders slumped. "I can't run away from my responsibilities. It's wrong."

He couldn't believe she'd say that – not after that passionate embrace they'd shared. His elation sank into frustration. "Responsibilities? You don't _want_ to be queen."

"No, I don't," she admitted.

"Then why must you? Why can't we just live our own life together, instead of following obligations imposed on you by others who care nothing for your happiness?"

"You think I don't want that? Really, Tristan is more of a leader than I am. By rights, he should rule, not me. It's only because of prejudice and my father's jealousy that his birthright was taken from him. I just want to follow my heart."

"Then follow your heart! Julie," his tone softened, "come away with me. Please."

"We can't! Think of Zani. She'll have to tell my cousin his trust was violated. She's like a mother to you. Do you want to do that to her?"

"But … you said you love me." His chest began to ache with sorrow.

"I do. Oh, Elnor I _do_ love you! But I was born to privilege. My life was never my own. My heart was never my own." She burst into tears.

It was all he could do not to cry with her. He wanted to take her back into his arms, yet he already knew she'd push him away again. "I wish I never had a heart because it's breaking."

"I'm sorry," she sobbed. "I'm so sorry!" She bolted off across the field like a terrified rabbit.

Crestfallen, he let her go, knowing she did not want him to follow her.

Instead, he picked up a rock and hurled it in the opposite direction toward the cliffs. "_Qezh!_"

He'd been taught not to curse, but he felt so furious he didn't care what anyone else wanted. Only a fiery bolt of lightning shooting through the sky matched his anger.

He sank down in the soft grass, not knowing what else to do. Julie had rejected him!

There he was, pouring out his heart to her, and she lectured him about duty – obligations that came from her father's political schemes, and not any real love for his daughter.

As he watched her run toward the wooded area at the edge of the field, his anger melted into shame. He'd frightened her, he realized. He felt more confused than ever.

How could he have been so selfish? Julie was right. They must think of those who cared for them, and not only of themselves.

He was profoundly grateful to Zani and the Qowat Milat. How could he even consider such a betrayal after what they'd done for him? And what of Tristan? He loved Julie – even after her family stole his birthright. It would crush him if she ran off with the warrior he'd entrusted to protect her.

Off in the distance, Julene disappeared into the darkness of the trees.

Elnor hurried after her, berating himself for making her feel she had to flee from him in the first place. His fast strides covered the expanse quickly, and he soon reached the treeline. Catching his breath, he peered through the wood.

"Julie?" he called. "I ask forgiveness. I behaved like an animal to you."

No response.

Elnor felt even more guilty. "Julie? Where are you? Please don't be afraid. I won't disrespect you again."

By now, raindrops began to fall. Wind rustled through the branches, sending down a shower of droplets. He needed to find her quickly before the storm set in.

"Stop where you are, sister boy!"

Instinctively, he reached for his sword, but froze when his hand touched the hilt.

A sinister-looking thug with an eye patch held a Reman _jackal_ knife to Julene's throat. The blade gleamed in the flash of lightning.

Before Elnor could decide what to do, Julene and the villain dissolved in a whirl of energy.


	8. Thunder Rolls

Elnor didn't even know where to begin when he found Zani waiting for him at the Sanctuary entrance.

Her face was grave. "The princess has been taken."

He nodded. "It's my fault. I wanted her to run away with me. I frightened her and she fled into the forest. Adrev's man was waiting for her there. He used a transporter to take her." He braced himself for a reprimand he knew he deserved. He couldn't look Zani in the eye, but instead remained at the bottom of the steps as the rain poured down onto him.

She stood there in silence for a few moments. Each second drew out, passing like an hour.

Finally, she spoke. "We must rescue her."

Only then did he look up. "You're not angry with me?"

Her mouth tightened. "Disappointed. I only would've been angry if you hadn't told the truth."

The young man winced. Zani's disappointment in him felt surprisingly worse than anger. First he'd failed Julie, now Zani. His entire world was crashing down before his very eyes. He wanted to cry.

Mercifully, the sky poured down on him, preserving his last shred of dignity. Raindrops soaked his entire body, concealing his teardrops.

He must have made a pathetic sight. "I love her. I love her so much it hurts. I don't what I'll do if they harm her. Even if I do save her, she'll never forgive me."

"Come inside," said Zani.

Though he felt like a trespasser in his own home, he did as she told him.

As he warmed himself by the fire, he remembered there were so many less fortunate on Vashti – and here he sat in the shelter of their living area, betrayer that he was! Here he sat while his beautiful Julie was in danger – a peril to which he'd driven her.

"The fault is no one's," Zani said, giving him a cup of hot tea she poured from the pot hanging over the fire. "You should've had a normal family, where you can live as a young man ought. This is exactly why a man does not belong with the Qowat Milat."

Of course, he understood that as well as any of the sisters. He was grateful they'd taken him in and taught him their ways. Elements only knew how he might have turned out otherwise. "How can I earn your trust back? I can't say enough how much I regret what I've done. I regretted it before they took her."

Zani pondered his words. "You haven't lost my trust. It was a moment of weakness, a temptation you would've overcome. Running away with her would have indeed been wrong. But when the time came, you would not have done it. I can see that you've already punished yourself enough. Your heart is good, Elnor. I've always seen that in you."

He cupped his hands around the hot beverage, allowing its warmth to soothe his anguish. He listened to the low rumbles of thunder outside and breathed in the hot vapors. "My heart is foolish. I didn't mean to fall in love with her. You counseled against it, and I didn't heed you."

Zani smiled with a wisdom beyond the young man's years. "Everything happens for a reason. Trying to stop someone from falling in love is like trying to stop the weeks of darkness from coming. I don't know where your heart will lead you, but you must follow it. We have taught you all that we can here. Now you must follow Julene to this world called Nua Breizh."

"How will we find her? She could be anywhere. We don't even know if she's still on Vashti." He felt his anger returning. "I'm going to kill Adrev."

She placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "I don't think Adrev took her. Nor do I think he sent the _yekelugh._ It isn't his way. However, I believe he may know where this other man took her."

Elnor gritted his teeth. "He'll tell us. I'll _make_ him talk."

"No. Leave Adrev to me. Save your strength for the one who took Julene. Your time will come to fight him."

* * *

South Station stood on the shores of the Sea of Gleaming Waters, its spires rising into the dark, menacing sky. Lightning flashed, threatening to strike the high towers.

Tristan imagined the sea must gleam in the sunlight, but it was difficult to tell in the middle of a storm. He tried to peer past the pelting rain to get a better glimpse of the city. On the waves, however, the wind blew violently, changing the direction of the rain at every turn. Raindrops blew into his eyes.

The deck beneath his feet heaved, and he nearly lost his balance. _I __may be__ many things_, he thought. _A mariner is not one of them. __Give me a horse on _terra firma_ any day. _Even space was better than this.

Below decks, Paol was retching like there was no tomorrow. Tristan and Herve had retreated above, preferring to face the elements.

"Paol's a big lad," said Herve. "He can take care of himself." He took in the cool, damp sea air and sighed with contentment. "Hear how the sea roars and the thunder rolls? This is living! Just like the sailors of Old Earth, eh, my prince?"

"Our people were legendary sailors," Tristan agreed. _My Romulan genes must have superseded those traits. _This was most definitely _not_ his idea of a good time. At least he wasn't throwing up with Paol. He silently thanked his Romulan genes.

"So were my people." Captain Robin Bellamy, a middle-aged Terran woman walked the tossing deck like she was traipsing across a green meadow on a sunny day. "Brittany was not the only land to produce a great seafaring people."

Herve shrugged. "The English learned everything from us."

Bellamy laughed and slapped Herve on the shoulder, but otherwise let the comment slide. She was Latra's friend, and the friends of Latra were also her friends as far as she was concerned.

After they'd stayed in her home on the cliff side, she insisted on bringing them into South Station personally. "It's a pity I can't sail you back to North Station," she said to the stout mechanic. "Then you would eat your words, _mon ami_."

"It would be faster than walking," agreed Herve.

_And better than every forgotten man accosting us along the way,_ Tristan thought. "I'm afraid poor Paol wouldn't survive it."

"I'm sure he's a good secretary," said Bellamy. She and Herve exchanged glances, then burst into hearty laughter.

Tristan smirked. He could see those two matching pints in a some tavern in the city, if only there was time for that.

Latra came up on deck. "You were not expecting to enter the city like this, Your Highness?"

"No, I wasn't. But I must admit, it's better than what I expected. We're making excellent time."

"You're eager to get back to North Station?"

"Of course." He blinked, not quite certain what she was getting at.

"You don't trust us to protect your cousin."

Tristan was taken aback. "It's not that. I'm … not accustomed to asking for help. And I care about her more than any other person in my family."

Latra folded her arms. "That much is obvious."

"I'm grateful for your assistance," he added. "Truly, I am, Sister Latra. I could not have made it here without you. I owe the Qowat Milat a great debt."

His show of humility seemed to satisfy her. "You're welcome, Prince Tristan."

He did hope they'd find a faster way back. Julie must be so bored, cooped up in a convent while he went on all these adventures! She'd kill him when she found out about the sailing ship, especially. He needed to think of a way to make it up to her. He could buy her a present, but he was already going to do that. No, it would take a great deal more to satisfy her after he'd ditched her like some helpless damsel. True, that was exactly how he saw her, but he'd never admit it.

Perhaps, after Herve repaired their ship, they might return for a visit. Bellamy would like Julene, he felt certain. She seemed to enjoy any and all complements directed at the _Ester Grace_. A few choice words of praise, and she would likely insist on giving them a proper tour of the coastline, the way it was meant to be viewed. In favorable conditions, even this journey might have been more his idea of "living," as Herve put it.

Grasping a rigging rope for balance, he looked out over the rolling sea, squinting at the spray peppering his face.

The more he thought about it, the less he liked the way that young warrior had looked at Julie. He recalled how eagerly the young Romulan offered to let her stay with the Qowat Milat sisters – before Zani had made a decision. If only to himself, he must admit that he _did_ find it hard to entrust his cousin to the sisters when there was a handsome young warrior dawdling around who'd quite obviously taken a shine to her.

_Do I detect jealousy?_ he asked himself.

He shook his head. Julene was never meant for him any more than an orphan raised by warrior nuns. What was his name? Elnor? Yes, that was it. He wasn't a serious suitor. Nothing to worry about there.

All the same, he rued the day when she would marry another man, when he would stand on the sidelines at her wedding as her childhood friend, plastering a fake smile on his face as he wished her every happiness along with the rest of the family – her distant cousin, for that was all he could ever be. The conditions of his parents' marriage saw to that.

But if she truly was happy, then he could find it in his heart to be happy for her.

Almost.


	9. The City That Time Forgot

Dusk settled over the aged ruins. Time itself seemed to have forgotten the desolate place along with the rest of Vashti. Crumbling walls and tall cracked columns were all that remained of what must have been the wonders of an ancient glory. Built in the center of an oasis, vegetation had swallowed a large portion of the timeworn city. Darkness deepened between silent archways, and in the jungle beyond branches and fronds swayed gently in the night breeze.

Even though she was a prisoner, Julene looked on the scene with reverence. Her mind traveled back in time, curious about all the people who must have gone about their daily lives here, heedless that one day their mighty city would crumble into vestiges. The thought made her feel sad. Who were the people who built this place? Did their ghosts haunt these abandoned streets?

Tiny phosphorescent creatures emerged from the chinks in the wall and scurried around in her little chamber. She hoped they weren't poisonous. True, other than glowing they bore little resemblance to the giant centipede... _thing_ that attacked her a few nights before, but they made her skin crawl all the same. She shivered in the cooling twilight. Above her, near the caved-in ceiling, light from a lone window faded into the gathering gloom.

Glancing outside into the stone courtyard, her captors huddled around a fire. They spoke in low voices, warming themselves as they schemed. Every so often, the leader with the eye patch sent one of his goons to check on her. She tried to listen in on their conversation, but couldn't understand their speech. Tristan had taught her some Romulan, though she wasn't anywhere near fluent. It wasn't until she'd tried to speak it with Elnor that she discovered to her surprise that she only knew the dialect of the _Noble Born_, and not the common tongue.

_Why would Tristan teach you anything different?_ Elnor had pointed out. _You are a _Noble Born_. __What other speech would you use? _Still, she could hear something in his voice that told her he felt his pride wounded. The princess stuff again.

_Oh, Elnor! I'm sorry I rejected you! What else was I supposed to do?_

The memory of their argument the previous night brought more tears to her eyes. But by this point, she was past crying. She'd done enough of that all the way to … wherever this place was. She turned her mind to how she might escape.

These lowlifes did not use the words her cousin had taught her. Julene only caught two of their names in their conversation. Thatos was the leader. And the bandit he most often sent to check on her was Vrulak. Firelight flickered across their faces, as she watched them, making their harsh features look ghastly. The ghoul Thatos gestured to Vrulak that it was time to check on their prisoner.

She mustered up her best air of royalty as he approached. "Are you going to keep me in here all night?" she demanded.

Vrulak shrugged.

"It's cold, and I don't want to sleep in the mud." _Or with these nasty bugs!_

He sighed. He seemed to have the closest resemblance to sympathy for her. It wasn't much to go on, but Julene would glean what she could from it. "Come on, then," he said.

She followed him toward the fire. Not that she wanted to get closer to this band of thugs – but sleeping in that cold mud hole with bugs crawling all over her was a worse prospect.

Thatos stood up when he saw her and began scolding Vrulak with his mouth still full of food.

The underling defended his actions, and it didn't take much to convince the one-eyed boss to let her sit by the fire. He must have been tired from a long day of plundering and wasn't up for any more terrorizing.

Julene sat down closer to Vrulak. He was younger than Thatos and the others – and less hideous. Not that he was pleasant by any stretch of the imagination – just not as imposing.

Vrulak gave her a plate of food. "Here. Eat."

She didn't examine the victuals too closely, lest she offend her captors and make the situation worse. Still, the food didn't look bad or anything. Taking a bite, she found it edible. She hadn't eaten since they kidnapped her, and it took all her reserve to maintain her aristocratic control. At least even Romulan bandits used utensils.

"No need for your princess manners here," said Vrulak. "You must be hungry. This isn't high tea. We're simple folk."

Julene took careful, small bites anyway – as she would at high tea. She wasn't going to dignify his suggestion with a response.

Vrulak seemed amused. He mumbled something to the others in Romulan – she caught only the words _Qowat Milat_ – then they laughed. When he saw the expression on her face, he added, "No need to get angry, my lady. We're impressed that a human can possess such discipline. You're a credit to your race."

She resisted the urge to roll her eyes. A credit to her race! What was this, the 20th century? The cold wind, channeled through the archways and narrow streets, began to blow harder. Julene was not able to resist the urge to shiver.

"Humans are weak, none the less," Vrulak observed, though she detected no insult in his tone. He removed his cloak and draped it around her shoulders. "Stay close to the fire." Was this kindness? From a lowlife thug? Surely not. They didn't want to damage the goods, that was all. No need to risk not getting the ransom money.

She knew from her cousin and from Elnor and the sisters that Romulans were quite capable of gentleness. But she also knew they could turn from tenderness to violence in an instant.

Julene reclined on the hard stone floor and pulled Vrulak's coat closed to shut out the cold. She closed her eyes and tried to relax. She must find a way to escape!

Off in the jungle, an animal shrieked. Her eyes popped open. "What was that?"

Vrulak grimaced. "A _halguuk_, a predator." Another howl answered the first, followed by more. "They would hunt us if they could. But fortunately for you, you're with us." He held up his disruptor rifle. "And we're armed."

Julene's reserve was slipping away. The echoing cries were horrible. Desperate and wild, like these criminals. She wanted to cry again.

"You're still afraid," said Vrulak. "You need not be, unless you try to escape. They'll rip you to pieces." He tilted his head toward the jungle sounds. "Go to sleep."

She closed her eyes, though she was nowhere near falling asleep surrounded by gangsters and alien predators. _Elnor, where are you, my love?_

* * *

"Zani, I don't know what you're talking about."

Elnor bit his lip at hearing what was surely a lie. He didn't believe Adrev's claim for a second. Zani had instructed him to let her do the talking. He wasn't used to keeping silent, especially in important matters. But Julene's life was at stake, and he would do anything to save her.

"No?" Zani's eyes flashed.

Adrev held up his hands. "Why would I violate the Sanctuary? The cornerstone of our community! One of the few truly Romulan aspects left in this place with all these Terrans encroaching around us?" He gestured outside the enclosure of the Romulan Social Club.

"My guest was taken, Adrev!"

"Not by me," he returned. "I'm as surprised as you are, I assure you."

Elnor could endure it no more. He slammed his fist on the table, breaking it in two. "That's not good enough!" He reached forward to grab the lapels of Adrev's jacket.

Zani held a hand to his chest to stop him. She remained calm, though it was clear she was no less furious. "Tell us what you know. Or you risk the ire of the Qowat Milat."

"Now you're threatening me? _Me_, Zani?" Adrev's jaw tightened. Danger flickered in his eyes.

She was not in the least deterred. "Our sacred place has been violated! You claim you didn't kidnap the princess? Who did, then?"

"And don't say you don't know," Elnor yelled, "because we know you do!"

Behind them, Adrev's henchmen moved closer, ready for their leader's command.

Adrev waved them away. This situation required political savvy over brute force. "I've been betrayed, too," he confessed. "I may do many things, but I still revere the Old Ways. I still respect the Qowat Milat. This was not the plan we agreed upon."

Zani gritted her teeth. "With whom did you make an agreement?"

"Thatos," he admitted. "He's obviously cut me out of the deal."

"Kar Kantar's toady?" Elnor ground out. "Where has he taken her?" His mind raced. Had Kantar taken her offworld? They might never find her now!

"Watch who you insult, boy!" The gangster turned back to the nun, who was still glaring at him. "I want satisfaction as much as you do. So I'll tell you Thatos has likely taken her to the old Debrune ruins. But I'll do better than that. I'm coming with you."


	10. The Most Dangerous Game

Vrulak's fist gripped Julene's arm like a vice, and it was all she could do not to cry out from the pain.

"You shouldn't have done that, my princess!" he snarled. "How do you expect me to protect you from Thatos?"

Julene found no answer to give him. She'd tried to escape into the jungle, but he'd caught her before she got very far.

Realizing he was hurting her, he loosened his grip. But he didn't let go. He pushed her back in the direction of the camp. "Don't do that again. Next time, I might not be the one to find you."

Light from the first sun touched the ancient Debrune towers, its rays slowly reaching the street level. Vrulak led her through the city, back to the archway near their camp, where the flicker of firelight could be seen dancing off the shadowy stone walls.

Thatos called out at their approach.

"_Ie_," Vrulak responded. He lowered his mouth to Julene's ear. "Keep quiet, if you want to live," he whispered. His hot breath made her skin crawl. Pushing her to the ground, he continued the talk with his boss.

Julene glanced over her shoulder back toward the forest. Too late – one of the bandits moved to block her escape route.

Vrulak's exchange with Thatos degenerated into a full blown argument, and Julene wondered if it might come to blows. She'd believed Romulans didn't tolerate dissent, yet Thatos had allowed Vrulak to get away with a great deal of it.

The two got into each others' faces, with Thatos shouting and pointing to their prisoner for emphasis. It seemed he believed holding her for ransom might not have been worth the effort. They should just kill her and move on to lower hanging fruit. Vrulak disagreed.

It was hard to tell what the others thought about the affair. They looked on with undivided interest, waiting to see which way the dice would fall. They were lackeys, not caring who led them as long as they didn't have to step up and lead themselves.

When the proverbial smoke cleared, Vrulak appeared to have gotten his way. Thatos waved a dismissive hand in their captive's direction. _She's _your_ problem._

Vrulak returned to her, grabbing her by the arm again. She barely got to her feet soon enough to keep from being dragged along in his stride.

"Why do you care what happens to me?" she asked.

He was still angry, but he kept his voice low. "Why do you think? I have need of the ransom money. But you're a princess. You've never known want. You can't understand."

It was a reasonable explanation. Yet she knew it wasn't the whole truth. She recognized the hesitation, the way he tilted his chin inward.

Tristan and Bochra demonstrated the gesture every so often. It wasn't that they lied to her exactly, just that they omitted parts they weren't ready to reveal yet – or didn't intend to reveal at all. The movement was subtle, and she might have missed it if she hadn't grown up around Tristan.

She'd asked her cousin, Guenevere, about Tristan's reserve. _It's a Romulan thing_, the queen explained, rolling her eyes. _It makes them__ feel like they have the upper hand, even __when__ they don't. __He's just like his father in that regard. __I don't understand it, either._

In the case of her family, it was a mere annoyance. But in this instance, her life depended upon interpreting Vrulak's hidden meanings. She longed to be back with the Qowat Milat, where everyone simply said what they meant. No subterfuge, no secrets. She missed Elnor's unapologetic honesty. He never judged her when she put her foot in her mouth. He did the same thing all the time, and no one thought anything of it.

She remembered the way he'd held her close, how his lips touched hers, the crestfallen expression on his face when she told him they should do the responsible thing. She'd broken his heart. If only she could talk to him now! Running away together was foolish, but maybe they didn't have to do anything so drastic in order to be together.

Would Elnor come to save her? After she'd rejected him?

Tristan certainly would. He'd ride up on a white horse, if only he knew where she was – or that she'd been kidnapped in the first place. A tear spilled down her cheek.

Vrulak sighed. "I know humans weep, especially human females. Much has befallen you. It is understandable that you must do so."

Now it was Julene's turn to be angry. She quickly brushed the moisture from her face, refusing to give her captor the satisfaction of seeing her cry.

Chuckling, Vrulak released her arm and gestured toward another alcove. "In there. No mud or bugs, I already checked."

Holding her head high, Julene did as she was told. She needed time to think, and this seemed like the only way to avert his leering eye.

"Don't try to escape again," he reiterated. "You _will_ be killed." With that, he rejoined the others in putting out the fire.

There was still tension between him and the leader, but they put it aside for the time being. The second sun joined the first, both filling the courtyard with bright warmth. It was going to be another hot day. How long did they intend to stay here?

Leaning against the wall in the shade, she pulled her knees to her chest. She knew by instinct that whatever Vrulak was hiding, she wouldn't like it. Why _did_ he want her alive? Did he intend to collect the ransom and keep her anyway? Why would he do that?

She shivered, in spite of the heat. _Elnor, please come for me._

* * *

The Qowat Milat convent at South Station proved much larger than their Sanctuary at North Station. The building had an open floor plan with several levels and few walls; the Qowat Milat insisted upon openness in all things. Instead, they hung curtains to keep out bad weather. Since the weather was fine today, the convent rooms and cloisters were revealed for all to see.

The main difference between the two communities was that Zani's had been built in a tree, which reminded Tristan of the Swiss Family Robinson. Both places made him uneasy, like he was exposed – which, of course, he was.

Calan was their abbess at this convent. Latra explained the situation and she permitted them to stay while Tristan conducted his business.

"Our home and our hearts are open to you, Prince," Calan said, moving her hands in the opening book action.

Tristan returned the greeting. "I am grateful."

"And I am grateful to meet one such as you. You are living proof that Romulans and Terrans can co-exist in peace. We do not see many examples of that on Vashti."

"It must be tiring to have to always be the ones to set the example," Tristan surmised.

Calan smiled. "There is freedom in Absolute Candor."

He considered the statement. "I can see that. I confess I'm still getting used to it. To tell the truth, I'm not sure I ever will."

"Most people believe a Romulan and a Terran would never choose to have a child," she pointed out.

Tristan shrugged. "It's not like I'm the first. In fact, it's historically more common than people think." He chuckled. "And, I just illustrated your point."

Calan did not gloat. She was satisfied that he'd taken in the lesson she'd been trying to teach him. "You must remember what you've seen here on Vashti and take this knowledge back to your own people."

The next day, Tristan set off with Paol and Herve to buy the ship engine parts. The merchants at South Station proved just as ruthless as those at North Station. In the end, they paid considerably more than the parts were worth. But by this point, they didn't fret over a relatively trivial frustration. It was a stark contrast to the serious problems those on Vashti experienced. And soon, they would be rid of it all.

Even better, Calan persuaded a local driver to take them back to North Station via ground delivery truck. They could get there in a day instead of braving the dubious foot trail a second time.

_Finally_, Tristan thought. _Things are starting to go right._

* * *

"Can't this thing go any faster?" Elnor huffed.

"Driving a ground vehicle isn't like plowing a field, sister boy!" Adrev snapped.

The rust bucket sped along the road surprisingly fast, considering its sorry state and the weight of the passengers it carried.

It wasn't nearly fast enough for Elnor's liking. His patience was spent. They'd already wasted enough time talking to Adrev. And then Adrev took forever in getting this excuse for a vehicle and gathering up his handful of backup cronies.

Dusk came earlier with each passing day. They reached the jungle's edge long after dark. Adrev stopped the van just before the foliage.

"We'll park here so we don't alert them. Keep your _tan qalanq_ ready." He pulled out his disruptor. His men did the same.

"A _tan qalang_ is no match for a disruptor," remarked Skantal, Adrev's number one bruiser.

Neither Elnor nor Zani responded. He would learn when the time came, and he'd rethink the error of his presumptions.

They split off and crept through the jungle brush in silence. Elnor could hear the spine-chilling howls of _halguuk_ predators in the distance. Just what they needed. The jungle was wild and merciless place, and it took all of his training to keep his mind calm, to respond rather than react.

I _am the hunter_, he reminded himself.

Spindly branches reached out to snag his clothing and scratch any exposed skin. Insects whined in his ears. Night sounds echoed all around him. At every turn, beasts seemed to lie in wait, ready to pounce. He recalled the gory and embellished stories he and the other children in his community told around the fire at night: tales of the Eater of Souls, of the Destroyer, and of the hellbeast Ganmadan.

_Stories told to frighten children. I am no longer a child._

The moons rose, providing some much needed light. They kept to the shadows, moving from tree to tree. There would be guards when they reached the ruins, and they didn't want to announce their presence.

It seemed a long time had passed when they entered the gateway of the abandoned city. If the forest had been scary, these ruins were harrowing. An ethereal mist hung over the place, giving it a motionless, supernatural vibe, as though one entering this realm pierced the veil of time.

_C__h'khalagu_ and _khalagu_ seemed to lurk in the shadows, watching from inside the buildings, prowling down the alleys. No longer was this the domain of the living. The dead held the power here. The Debrune erected these structures – and they would keep them for eternity.

_Focus_, he commanded himself. _Julie needs you to be strong._

He collided with Skantal. The gangster tensed, then he gave Elnor a warning look as he pushed him aside.

_He's afraid, too_, the younger Romulan realized. _And he doesn't see that I'm afraid. _For all the honesty Elnor had practiced his entire life, he didn't think himself capable of this deception. He intended to keep Skantal ignorant of this fact. He'd ask Zani for forgiveness later.

They both started when another yell rang from the jungle.

"That's not a _halguuk_," said Skantal.

Without waiting for anyone else, Elnor turned and ran down the street toward the sound.

* * *

Vrulak blasted a bush in his way. "I protected you! Thatos wanted to let you go hungry, let you shiver in your muddy chamber. But I defended you! I risked the boss' anger – for you."

Julene crawled beneath the foliage, ignoring the slithering creatures she encountered. Their feathery legs brushed against her fingers. Nonetheless, she moved in silence, trying to keep her breath even. Grit covered her face, hands, and knees. Branches clawed at her, cutting her soft skin.

She'd taken a chance and seized the next opportunity that presented itself, deciding she'd rather brave the perilous jungle than wait for Vrulak's secret plans. She'd debated about waiting for someone to rescue her – but she had no way of knowing if anyone was coming. When night fell, she'd made up her mind.

"He wanted to beat you so you wouldn't get any more ideas to escape," Vrulak yelled. "But I persuaded him not to. I didn't want to see you hurt, my human girl – and I risked taking your place! Is this how you repay me? With betrayal?" Another disruptor blast. "Come here, you little she-devil!"

Julene reached for the ground – but instead grasped at empty air.

She rolled into a ditch. Fortunately, there was no water in it to splash. Only oozing mud, which thankfully, made no sound.

"I meant to take you into my home when this was over. Keep you safe. I would've been good to you. But now I see you're nothing but a treacherous wench!"

If he believed that would convince her to come out of hiding, he was more out of touch with reality than a princess born to privilege.

She'd understood that women commanded respect and authority in Romulan society. How could he view her as some kind of concubine? _Romulan_ women were respected in Romulan society, she corrected herself. Still, she couldn't see how he could claim to care for her, then in the same breath threaten to kill her.

She decided she would never understand Romulan emotional contrasts, and instead pushed on through the undergrowth. One hand in front of the other.

Somehow, she must keep going.


	11. The Good, the Bad, and the Beautiful

Tristan held on for dear life as the vehicle blew through a sharp curve on two wheels. Falling to the side, his face pressed to the window. Down, down below in the valley, a ribbon of water shimmered in the sunshine. Herve's heavy form crushed him against the glass.

_This would hurt less if he wasn't so large._

"Sorry, prince," murmured Herve. Clumsily, he pulled himself, against gravity, off of Tristan's back.

Tristan's starving lungs gasped air at last.

They landed back on all four wheels with a thud. The mail truck began its ascent out of the valley. But the road ahead promised plenty more curves like that last one. The truck chugged along, undaunted.

Paol's mouth fell open when he saw the route ahead. "God help us."

The driver, a human named James, turned to him and smiled with delight. "Like it says in the Good Book: 'Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God.'"

Tristan didn't know whether to laugh outright or continue to stare in disbelief. On the one hand, he wanted to get back – he _was_ anxious to get back. On the other hand, if James didn't drive more carefully, they might not get back.

Latra caught his concerned expression. "Perhaps we should present our request to James?" she suggested.

James didn't wait for Tristan to answer. "What can I do for you, Sister?"

"Your driving concerns us, James," she replied.

Tristan glanced back and forth between the two of them, unsure how he'd take such a direct answer.

James paused for a moment, then his smile returned. "I know just the thing. A sing-along! As the Good Book says, 'Sing a new song unto the Lord.'"

For the first time since Tristan had met Latra, she truly found no words to express her confusion. She glanced back to Tristan, who could only shrug in return.

"Aaaaaa-men," James crooned, "Aaaaay-men! Aa-ay-men, ay-men, amen!" Then he stopped and examined his passengers. "Why aren't you singing?"

Gripping his seat, Paol tried to explain. "We follow the Roman tradition."

James shrugged. "Romulan, human: we're all the same inside." With that he stepped on the gas to get up the steep incline. "Hallelujah!"

Pressed against the backs of their seats, no one bothered to correct the error. It was easier just to go along with it.

"Aaaaay-men! Aa-ay-men, ay-men, amen!" they sang together in chorus, mustering up as much enthusiasm as they could, given the precarious angle in which the truck leaned.

"Sing it over!" James belted out. "Hallelujah!"

"Down at the Jordan,

John was baptizing and saving all sinners!

See him at the seaside,

Talking with the fisherman,

And made them disciples."

"Aa-ay-men, ay-men, amen."

Tristan repressed a groan, though no one would have actually heard it if he'd sighed aloud. It was going to be a long ride. _Maybe we should have __just braved the highway?_

* * *

Several hours later, the mail truck pulled into a sleepy North Station.

The hour was late. Flarewings drifted on the night air as the truck passed the empty market and Romulan Social Club. Residents had settled in for the night. The streets were empty, save a lone rodent scurrying across town in search of food.

Tristan felt relieved to return to such a peaceful, tranquil scene. He imagined Julene was probably asleep by now along with the rest of settlement. Mercifully, James ceased his loud singing and testifying.

Tristan hadn't been to a religious gathering in some time. In fact, he only attended official functions or at his mother's urging. He'd managed to play hooky the past Christmas due to an offworld diplomatic mission. After the ride with James, he felt he could consider himself as having properly attended one. The next time his mother pestered him about the matter, he was now armed with a prepared response. He straightened his shirt with satisfaction.

Latra took it all in stride, not seeming to mind James' zealous eccentricities – except for his reckless driving.

They pulled up to the Sanctuary. James got out and opened the door for her. "If there's anything you sisters need, you just call on your brother, James. Ya hear?"

"Thank you, James," she returned. "I'll tell Zani."

The weary travelers looked forward to laying their heads down for the night. They dragged their feet up the winding staircase hugging the mighty tree supporting the Qowat Milat Sanctuary.

One of the sisters had stirred from her bed and met them at the entrance. Tristan was surprised, as he'd expected Zani to greet them.

"Zani isn't here," she told Latra. Her face filled with regret. "I'm sorry, Prince Tristan, but your cousin is not here. She was taken. Zani and Elnor went to rescue her."

* * *

"Go on, then!" Vrulak yelled. "The _halguuk_ can devour your pretty flesh. I care not, human girl!"

Despite his claim of indifference, the Romulan desperado continued his pursuit. Wielding a machete in one hand and a disruptor in the other, he whacked down or vaporized the thick jungle vegetation in his path.

Julene crawled through the rough, wet fronds as quickly and silently as she could. Every so often, a branch would smack her in the face. But she didn't cry out.

Sweat dripped off her body. In spite of the heat and humidity, she felt cold. Shaking, she made her way around a massive tree trunk, climbing over its huge roots. The bark was wet from the recent rains.

It was tempting to rest here, nestled in the hard wood roots that seemed to welcome her with open branches. She drew in several deep breaths, intending to resist the temptation and move on soon.

She took a step forward but stopped when she heard a hooting sound.

Was it some sort of owl? Why would the noise unsettle her?

Through the foliage ahead, she detected movement. Then it was gone.

Behind her hiding spot, Vrulak cursed as he advanced closer. "_Qezhtihn_! Where are you?"

She wanted to move forward, but a pair of elliptical eyes met hers. They held her in her place.

Tall as a man, the creature studied her. Its dark, reptilian skin blended in with the surrounding jungle. It ignored Vrulak's commotion, and didn't care when he fired his weapon.

_Just keep going_, she told herself._ It will leave me alone if __I leave it alone._

But she knew that wasn't true.

She inched away from the tree. It moved to block her path.

A bush nearby went up in flames and smoke. It examined Vrulak's damage with detached curiosity. Then it looked back to her. It opened its jaw to reveal a mouth full of sharp teeth. Rising on its hind legs, long claws extended from its paws.

Throwing back its head, it howled.

Other animals in the distance answered.

Julene gasped in horror. A _halguuk_!

Even Vrulak stopped when he heard it. Then he opened fire in its direction.

"Vrulak!" Thatos called from just beyond the ruins.

Her pursuer yelled back. While the two Romulans argued, Julene wanted to take the opportunity to slip away.

But the _halguuk_ remained where it stood.

Her mind raced in panic, trying to find some means – any means – of escape. Should she run for it? Run, where?

An arm grabbed her from behind.

She tried to scream but a hand cupped over her mouth.

"Julie! It's me!" a voice whispered in her ear.

Spinning around, she found herself in Elnor's strong arms.

"I'm sorry," he said, cradling her cheeks in his hands, "about everything. Can you forgive me?"

Tears came to her eyes. She buried her face in his tunic. "Oh, Elnor! I'm so relieved you came."

The _halguuk_ growled. Several other growls followed.

Elnor pulled away from her and held his sword ready. "Get behind me."

Before they could pounce, one of the hunter beasts took a blast to its midsection and fell. The others decided against the attack. They backed away, then one by one disappeared into the jungle.

Meanwhile, Thatos had given up the argument and returned to their camp.

"Well, Princess!" Vrulak announced. "It appears your friends are here to pay your ransom. You can come out now."

Elnor shook his head. _He's lying. _

Throwing her arms around his neck, Julene kissed him. Elnor held her close, savoring the taste of her soft lips. It took all his self control not to lose himself in the embrace.

"An old tradition from Earth. For luck."

Tenderness filled his face. He resisted the urge to capture her lips again. "Romulans don't believe in luck. But I'll take the kiss."

Gesturing for her to stay behind the tree, he stepped into Vrulak's view. "Princess Julene is under the protection of the Qowat Milat. I'm supposed to give you the choice to live."

Vrulak scoffed. "Tell you what, sister boy, why don't I give _you_ the choice to live? Run on home to your nun mamas."

A cavalier smirk appeared on Elnor's face for an instant before his cool warrior's reserve took control. Julene realized he'd actually _hoped_ Vrulak would give him an excuse to fight. Determination was written on his face – he was going to win.

She almost felt sorry for Vrulak.

And it was over before she knew it began.

She'd heard the _tan qalanq_ sing, a heavy form collapse into the dirt. Not a single shot fired.

When she emerged from her hiding spot, his body lied sprawled on the ground. Elnor crouched low, cleaning bright green blood off his sword. Her stomach turned.

He looked up as she approached, his features those of a hardened warrior. "He won't threaten you again."

* * *

Elnor finished cleaning his _tan qalanq_ and returned it to its sheath. His grisly task complete, he studied Julene.

She was trembling. He noticed how she made a point of not looking at Vrulak's corpse. He remembered that she wasn't accustomed to violence and death. She hadn't grown up on Vashti.

Cautiously, he caressed her pretty cheek. "He made that choice," he explained gently. "Any Romulan knows: fight a Qowat Milat and the outcome is not in doubt. I'll kill anyone who tries to hurt you. Don't ask me to apologize for it."

She nodded, turning her face into his hand. "The Romulan way. I won't ask you to be something you're not." She meant it, but the whole affair weighed on her.

Elnor sighed. "Oh, my princess." He took her into his arms and kissed her again, this time not holding back, not caring what happened later on. Her lips tasted sweeter than he remembered. He relished the smoothness of her flawless skin, the way she kissed him back, how his heart pounded.

Only this moment mattered. Only his Julene mattered. "You're beautiful," he breathed.

She knitted her brows. "But I'm covered in mud."

"You're still beautiful," he insisted.

This time, he wouldn't ask her to run away with him. "Let me go with you back to Nua Breizh," he entreated. "Let us face whatever we must together." He lowered one knee to the ground and folded his hands around hers. "Would a princess ever consider marrying a humble warrior?"

Julene laughed with joy. "I thought you'd never ask!"


	12. Vashtian Standoff

Zani took a fighting stance, facing Thatos and his followers. "Choose to live," she advised them.

"Qowat Milat!" Thatos raged. "Will no one rid me of these meddling nuns?" He looked to his goons. None stepped forward to offer an answer to the challenge. "And where the hell is Vrulak!"

"You wouldn't have to worry about nuns," Adrev called to him, "if you hadn't double crossed me."

"I'm not beholden to the Qowat Milat," Thatos spat. "I make my own rules." He opened fire.

His men followed his lead. Zani pulled Adrev behind an archway just in time. The ruins lit up with weapons fire.

"I may as well be dealing with Klingons," Adrev groaned.

Zani looked upon her ally with undisguised doubt. "You insisted you have a plan."

It was then that Elnor returned with Julene. "About Vrulak: he isn't coming," he informed Zani as they took cover.

"We've rescued the princess, Tenqem," said Zani. "We have what we came for. We don't fight petty battles for the criminals."

"Wait for it," Adrev replied with a knowing smile.

As if on cue, a new round of blasts came from the other side of the town square.

"Those would be _my_ people," Adrev supplied. He called out to Thatos again. "It's over, old friend. We have you surrounded."

"I'm not finished yet!" Thatos yelled. "Kill them, you fools!"

They opened fire, but their targets had taken cover and there was no one to shoot. Adrev's people also fired.

"Are we going to shoot until our disruptors are drained?" Adrev shouted over the ruckus. "Let's talk."

"About what, _veruul_?"

Adrev tensed under the sting of that insult. Nevertheless, he persisted. He hadn't been twice elected as a senator for nothing. "I'm sure we can work something out. Let us discuss this like civilized Romulans. Under a flag of truce."

Thatos didn't answer.

"There's no sense in us killing each other now that the Qowat Milat have our prize," Adrev continued. "We can _all_ leave here alive, beneath the Raptor's Wings."

At the mention of the ancient tradition dating back to before even the Debrune, Thatos responded. "Beneath the Raptor's Wings," he agreed.

"Weapons down," Adrev told his people.

No one argued with the age-old covenant that bound them all together as Romulans – it was what united them since before their people settled on Vulcan.

Both leaders emerged from behind their defensive holds, lowering their weapons to the ground for all to see.

They moved slowly toward the square center, their hands open and in full view.

"I'm willing to forget that you moved forward with the plan without me," Adrev began, when they were close enough to speak without shouting. "Times are hard for us. I know that."

"It was taking too long. You're sweet on that nun, even though she's rejected you time and again. You've gone soft, Tenqem." His nose wrinkled in disgust.

Adrev didn't deny the accusation. "It's as I told you. The people revere the Qowat Milat. I thought to save face with my community."

"You thought wrong." Thatos brandished a small disruptor he'd hidden in his jacket pocket.

His opponent blinked. "I thought we had a truce!"

"I lied."

Adrev grimaced.

While Thatos was still gloating, a disruptor appeared in Adrev's hand. Kantar's right hand man on Vashti went down into the dust, never to rise again. "So did I," Adrev smirked.

Without their leader, his backers looked to each other, uncertain what they should do next. No doubt, many must have lost faith in Thatos after he'd broken a sacred oath.

"Friends," Adrev addressed them, "I bear you no ill will for Thatos' betrayal. The Romulan Rebirth Movement can use good Romulans like you. Join us." He indicated to Thatos' dead form, "Don't throw your lives away like he did. There are too few of us left in the galaxy. But the day will come when our people will be great again. There's no reason you can't be a part of it. Unless you want to end up like this wind bag."

Slowly, Thatos' former followers emerged from their hiding places and stood beside Adrev. His own people rallied around him. "Even in the old days," said one, "Tenqem Adrev was always known as an honest crook."

Zani had seen enough. She stood and headed in the direction of their vehicle. Elnor and Julene trailed behind her.

"They're going to follow him?" Elnor said, astonished. "Even after he broke a sacred oath? He's no better than Thatos!"

Zani was unmoved. "That is why we seldom have anything to do with him."

"There is no honor in treachery," her young protege agreed.

She put a hand on his shoulder. "Remember what you have seen today, Elnor." Her gaze softened as it fell upon Julene. "It fills my heart with joy that you are safe, my dear."

Julene had been too shaken by everything to speak for a long time. "Thank you for coming," she said. "I am in your debt."

The venerable woman smiled. "Not _my_ debt. Elnor's debt. Now, if Adrev is finished making stump speeches. I think we can go home."

* * *

_Back at the Sanctuary..._

Tristan was livid. "What do you mean _taken_? You assured me she was safe here!"

Sister Kerosa remained calm. "I can sympathize with your frustration, Prince. Zani and Elnor went to rescue her."

"Elnor?" he ground out.

"I'm sure they will return with her soon," Latra assured him.

Paol and Herve retreated into a corner. They'd seen their prince in this mood before.

He threw his hands in the air, no longer willing to suffer excuses. What was he to do now? His Julie kidnapped by a band of thugs! He should never have left her here. Here, with that boy and his roving eye lurking around, dogging her steps! For all he knew, this Elnor character staged the whole thing.

What would he tell Julie's father? Lord Henri had trusted him. Tristan promised him she would be safe during this mission. Now, he'd never trust Tristan again, especially not with his daughter. Not to mention Tristan's own parents. His mother and father would lose faith in him. All his family's carefully laid out plans to keep the throne – years in the making – crumbled into dust!

And Julie … his childhood sweetheart. He might never see her again. He'd failed her – and he had no one but himself to blame. It was as though a knife had plunged into his heart.

He was about to grill Kerosa for every detail she knew when, to his surprise and relief, Zani entered. Julene came in behind her.

"Julie!" Tristan rushed forward to take her into his arms, his anger forgotten for an instant.

He stopped in his tracks when he saw Elnor holding her hand. He felt certain his eyes flashed, but he was past caring. "You're very familiar with my cousin's hand. How dare you!"

Elnor braced himself for a conflict, protectively trying to move the girl behind him.

"Tristan!" Julie stood between them. "It's not like that."

The prince took her by the wrist and pulled her out of the way – mindful not to hurt her, but firm enough that she wouldn't be able to resist. The poor girl had obviously been through an ordeal, and she wasn't thinking straight. "He won't take advantage of you again, Julie. I'm here now. I'll never let you out of my sight."

"I haven't taken advantage of her," Elnor alleged.

"Because I haven't given you the chance, hayseed!"

"Tristan!" She hit his shoulder with her little fist. He might have found her feeble attempts to fight endearing, if he wasn't preoccupied with the upstart trying to steal his girl. "Get your mind out of the gutter and listen to me."

"You're a beautiful woman, Julie. Maybe you don't realize the way of things. Men are like animals. I'm just telling it like it is."

She put her hands on her hips. "You would know, wouldn't you? You, who always skip church. You even missed Christmas!"

"I was offworld on a diplomatic mission. Besides, that...has nothing to do with this issue."

Elnor folded his arms. "I never skip religious ceremonies."

"You stay out of this!" Tristan snapped.

"See?" Julene pointed out. "He _is_ a good man!"

Tristan pressed his palm to his forehead. "Julie, that's not even the same thing."

"Romulan, human: we're all the same inside."

Had she been talking to that preacher wannabe, James? He was pretty sure she never had the opportunity. Had she?

"Elnor saved my life. And I love him! I don't care what you or anyone else says." She moved over to the young warrior's side and took his hand again.

"Love him?" Tristan echoed. Her words hit him like a bolt of lightning. He could find no retort to that statement – a declaration that came straight from her heart. Love … _him_?

Elnor met his stare with burning determination. "I love Julene, too."

Zani finally spoke with the authority of age and wisdom. "That is enough."

A hush fell upon the Sanctuary.

"This is a House of Truth," she said. "You have all spoken your truths. Now it is time for silence and sleep. You are welcome to stay here, Prince Tristan. Your anger is justified, but you must put this matter aside for tonight. We will discuss it further tomorrow."

Tristan was too crestfallen to argue anymore. Julie loved _Elnor_? A peasant sellsword who lived in a convent on a backwater planet? After they'd grown up together? There had been a time when she looked up to him. He'd doted on her, listened to her joys and sorrows as her confidant – and she hadn't even considered him as a marriage prospect!

"Prince," Paol ventured, "The … er, Reverend Mother is right. We are all exhausted. Let us work this out in the morning."

"Fine!"

But he'd be damned if this was over yet.


	13. Marry Him Or Marry Me

South Station stood tall and proud on the shores of the Sea of Gleaming Waters. A much larger settlement than North Station, it also boasted more water sources. Like the old Debrune ruins, it was another oasis on an otherwise arid plain. Hanging gardens and terraces adored the homes of the more affluent, drawing attention away from the darker slums.

Elnor had been here once before. As a boy of fifteen, he'd begged Zani to let him go with Kerosa on an errand to coordinate a charity mission with Calan's community. But he'd only seen the city from the land, mostly from the arched cloisters of the convent. The thrill of sailing into port aboard Captain Robin Bellamy's _Ester Grace_ proved far more exhilarating.

He liked Captain Robin from the start. The middle aged woman had gray curly hair, barely contained by her wide-brimmed hat, which boasted a large red feather. Still quite lovely despite a few wrinkles, her adventurous spirit reminded him of the characters in _The Three Musketeers_. She possessed a wisdom like Zani. It was no wonder she remained a friend of Latra all these years.

Salty wind blew across his face, and for a time, Elnor found he could easily forget his problems. He worked along side the crew, tying off ropes to adjust the sails with the ever changing winds. It wasn't long before he learned his first shanty.

_Now we are ready_

_To sail for the horn_

_Weigh hey, roll an' go!_

_Our boots and our clothes,_

_Boys, are all in the pawn_

_To be rollickin' Randy Dandy-O!_

Elnor hadn't spent this much time around humans in a while, not since the relocation eighteen years previously. Vashti's two largest populations remained segregated for the most part these days, and although neither he nor the Qowat Milat approved of the arrangement, they couldn't avoid being affected by it. Judging by what a marvelous time he was having, it was a shame. As an old human admiral demonstrated to him long ago, they had far more in common than different. The memory of Picard strained heavily on his heart.

_Heave a pawl, o heave away_

_Weigh hey, roll an' go!_

_The anchor's on board_

_And the cable's all stored_

_To be rollickin' Randy Dandy-O!_

Julene helped haul the ropes as well. Like Elnor, it was her first time on a sailing ship. The sailors were happy to indulge her, pulling in front and behind her so she wouldn't get overwhelmed by the load of large coils. She laughed with delight when her feet were lifted off the deck and she had to let go of the line.

Her auburn tresses flowed in the wind, and her pretty eyes—colored like the Sea of Gleaming Waters—sparkled with a joy that matched his own. _I've never seen a human as beautiful as she is_, he thought. In truth, he hadn't seen a Romulan as beautiful, either.

The sight of her made Elnor forget the sad memory of Picard. He laughed when he recalled her shutting down her cousin's objections to their relationship: _Romulan, human, we're all the same inside._ It wasn't exactly true—they didn't even have the same color blood. Tristan had been understandably baffled and speechless. But the moral truth was there. And Tristan – the living proof of that truth – couldn't argue against it.

_We're outward bound for Vallipo Bay,_

_Weigh hey, roll an' go!_

_Get crackin', m' lads, 'tis a hell o' a way!_

_To be rollickin' Randy Dandy-O!_

The prince sat brooding off at a shaded corner of the deck, pretending to "catch up on some paperwork" while waiting for Herve to let him know when the ship repairs were finished. Even Paol had given up trying to lift his spirits.

Elnor pitied him, even though Tristan had created his problems himself. He'd realized the previous night that the prince was in love with Julene, but Tristan kept it from her. If he'd simply been honest with her from the start, this situation might have turned out differently. _Thank the Elements it didn't_, Elnor thought.

All the same, he would not gloat over Julene's unfortunate cousin. For one thing, they would both be a part of the same family soon. In a sense, he had Tristan to thank for all of this. If he'd never met this son of their queen and an ordinary Romulan solider, he might not have believed a relationship with Julene possible.

His ears prickled at the sound of feminine laughter at the other side of the deck. Captain Robin and Julene were sharing some secret. Whatever it was, they drew considerable amusement from it. He felt his cheeks color. They'd been talking about him, he was certain. He bent his ear to learn more about their conversation.

The captain was disappointed to learn that Herve couldn't join them, but Tristan was eager to get the starship repaired and beat a hasty retreat from Vashti. Herve would have to work overtime on their ship and miss seeing Robin.

"I am sorry he's acting rude," Julene said, her expression turning serious. "He's not normally like this."

Robin tilted her head in surprise. "I can see what's the problem. Can't you?" she asked, observing her friend's confusion. "My dear, he's in love with you."

Julene shook her head. "He's like a brother to me." Her tone suggested she already knew it was true. She just didn't want to believe it.

Robin put a hand on one hip. "How closely related are you two? Other than his hair turning a little red in the sunshine, I don't see any resemblance."

"We're distant cousins," Julene admitted. "He looks more like his father."

Robin pressed her lips together, making her look like an aged cherub. She didn't need to argue her point any further. "Well, I must admit I'm jealous," she teased. "A dashing prince and a handsome warrior both vying for your hand. It's just like a romance novel." She sighed. "I once fancied a pair of pointed ears myself. Nowadays I go for starship mechanics."

The younger girl smiled in agreement, then her expression fell when her mind returned to the problem at hand. "But he never said anything."

"Never?"

"No." Then she reconsidered. "Maybe it was implied – but never spoken. He does keep secrets from me. I wish he didn't."

"I don't want to speak badly about him, but it seems to me like he took you for granted. He assumed you'd always be there."

"I know why he did. Being born to privilege doesn't exactly allow much room for friends – especially not for him. We don't have the ethnic strife on Nua Briezh, but there are few Romulans. He's a child of two worlds, though I know he often feels like he belongs to neither. He's my best friend, and I don't want to hurt him. But I love Elnor."

"Then," Robin advised, "you should follow your heart."

Elnor relaxed. He'd begun to worry Julene might have been having second thoughts. _Follow your heart_, he reflected. Those were the same words of advice Zani had offered to him.

That evening, Captain Robin insisted on taking them out to her favorite tavern in South Station. They packed together around a long table and were treated to a hearty supper. Ale flowed freely and so did more sea shanties. Elnor thought it wise to stop after one tankard. He rarely drank anyway, and now was definitely not the time to lose his head.

After supper, he noticed Tristan retreat outside, saying he wanted to smoke.

Hoping he'd had enough time to cool down from the night before, Elnor followed him. "Let's talk," he began.

The prince's dark eyes smoldered like the cigar in his hand. "There's nothing to talk about. You can't marry her."

Elnor heard the unspoken, _I'm going to marry her. _He was far more perceptive than Tristan realized. "She doesn't _want_ to marry you. Have you even asked her what she wants? No! You just decide for her and expect her to follow your orders – just like her father. Can't you see that?"

He crumpled the still smoking cigar in his fist. "What do you know about it? Who were your parents anyway? She's a princess! You're no one." The hot embers must have burned his flesh, yet he hardly seemed to notice. He looked ready to lunge forward and throttle his rival. But even he knew better than to challenge those who wielded the _tan qalanq_.

_A wise choice. _Elnor tried to keep his tone calm. "My parents were Dellina Motrim and Veren Jatohk. They served the Empire with honor and faithfulness. Just like your own father did. I may be an orphan but I'm not 'no one.'"

Not surprisingly, the prince still wasn't satisfied.

* * *

Julene drew her shawl around her neck against the cold night air. She pushed through the tavern door, leaving behind the warmth and concertinas. Outside, her breath puffed in clouds before her as she hurried around the corner to the tavern courtyard.

As she suspected, Elnor and Tristan were in a heated argument.

"I may be an orphan," Elnor said, "but I'm not 'no one.'" He kept his voice low, but didn't disguise his anger.

Tristan was about to retort when he saw her approach. Elnor turned and inhaled sharply when he saw her.

"You should go back inside, Julene" said Tristan. "Elnor wants to talk," he added sarcastically.

"That's exactly what I mean." A sinew twitched in Elnor's jaw. "How can you claim to care for her when you order her around like that?"

Tristan bristled at the accusation, and Julene stepped between them before things degenerated out of control. "I need to talk to my cousin," she said, placing a hand on Elnor's chest. His muscles were tense with frustration. "Please, Elnor," she said softly.

After holding Tristan's glare a few seconds longer, he nodded. Without another word, he went back inside. Tristan remained silent.

Sadness filled her heart. Her relationship with her best friend would never be the same again, and she was at a loss as to how all of this had happened. She remembered when she was twelve, the time he brought her a pony and first taught her to ride.

_She held on to the reins, trying not to be afraid. She'd never ridden a horse before. They seemed so big and wild – even this pony frightened her._

_Behind her, Tristan climbed up into the saddle. "Ok?" he asked in her ear. His hands folded around hers for a moment before he took the reins._

_Julene nodded, though she still felt unsure._

"_Don't be afraid, Jolie. I won't let anything happen to you." He was fourteen, after all, and it seemed to her like he had all the answers. The horse obeyed his every command._

_She smiled. When he was a toddler still learning to speak, he'd thought "jolie" and "Julie" were the same word. After he learned otherwise, he often called her "Jolie" anyway. "You _are_ pretty," he said, "très jolie."_

_He guided the horse out of the stable and into the field. "See? It's not scary."_

_They trotted past the tall grass and spring flowers in the meadow, following the trail beneath shady boughs. The breeze blew softly on her face. She no longer felt afraid, not with Tristan's strong arms around her._

"_You can marry whomever you want," he assured her._

"_My father doesn't think so."_

_He'd found her sobbing earlier that morning – the day her father told her that she must eventually fulfill her duty as heir to the throne and marry a suitor he would arrange for her. She'd told Tristan everything and he'd dried her tears, his elfin features filled with sympathy. Later that afternoon, he returned with a gorgeous chestnut pony._

"_When you learn to ride," he said, "you will know what freedom is. Don't worry about your father. You will change his mind. Let's just think about horses today."_

_Within a few years, she and Tristan were racing each other along the seashore. As the waves crashed beneath her galloping mare, she not only hoped – she _believed_ – that she would chose who she married._

Tears welled in her eyes. Even then, Tristan intended to marry her himself. He'd always adored her. It all made sense now. How had she not seen it?

This was not only about family power – though that element undoubtedly was there. His parents had pressured him into courting other prospects, and he always refused. Now she'd understood how he'd placated them. He'd dangled the delicious plot of regaining the throne by marrying her. How long had they planned this? How long had her best friend kept this scheme from her?

She'd assumed that like her, he simply wasn't ready to grow up. But he'd grown up much sooner than she realized. That was another reason she preferred Elnor – he didn't keep secrets from her.

Tristan stared at the ground. "So, this is how it is? Him?" He sighed. "You know your father won't let you marry a foundling sellsword raised by the Qowat Milat."

"Are you going to lecture me about love and duty?" she countered. "You, of all people?"

He folded his arms. "I don't get a say in any of it. Remember? We can't have everything we want, Julie."

She could no longer hold back her tears. "That's not what you told me before," she sobbed. "I love him, Tristan."

He winced. "You know _I _want you to be happy—"

"I can't be happy without him," she interrupted.

"That's why," he continued slowly, "I'm going to let him come back with us."

Julene blinked, unsure if she'd heard correctly. "Truly?"

His lips thinned. "Truly."

She threw her arms around his neck, tears flowing – this time, with bittersweet joy. He returned her embrace, and she could smell the sweet scent of tobacco on his collar.

"Your father will tell you the same thing. But," he sighed, "we'll convince him. Somehow. I meant what I said. You should marry the one you love. I just don't know why you want … him."


	14. Life Changes

The season of darkness had at last come. Around the Sanctuary, flarewings and other phosphorescent creatures emerged, their soft glow flickering in small dots across the landscape.

Elnor embraced Zani for what they both knew would likely be the last time. "No matter where I go," he said, "you will always be my mother."

He knew he'd have to say goodbye to her eventually. He'd never belonged with the Qowat Milat in the first place, and it was by necessity that Zani had raised him anyway. But the time was here, and saying goodbye was harder than he imagined. He'd already bid the other sisters farewell, putting Zani last, because it would prove the most painful. He tried not to cry. A single tear leaked down his cheek anyway.

"You will always be my son, Elnor," she whispered in his ear. "I love you. It gladdens my heart to see you find love. The Elements have denied me nothing."

"I love you," he returned.

Finally letting him go, she turned to examine Julene and smiled with approval. "I wish you both every happiness."

"Thank you for everything, Zani," said Julene. "I wish we could've gotten to know each other better."

"You will know me through Elnor," she assured her. Her expression grew serious again. "There is one more thing: Picard."

Elnor tensed. "What about him?"

"He has died. He collapsed at his chateau, on Earth. Adrev told me it was in the news yesterday."

Like saying goodbye to Zani and life with the Qowat Milat, he'd also known this event would come to pass. Picard had already been old when he'd idolized him as a child. Humans lived shorter lifespans than Romulans. Long ago, he'd accepted Picard wasn't coming back. Nothing had really changed.

And yet, now that the moment was here, it hit hard. His hero was truly gone. He _couldn't_ come back.

He recalled those blissful nights when the admiral read human stories to him, stories of whimsical journeys and adventures. He remembered the fencing lessons, imagining himself as D'Artagnan and Picard as Jussac. Unlike the story, Picard always won their duels. Today, he reflected, that would not be the outcome.

"I feel sad," he managed to say after a while. "I wish it turned out differently. I would've liked to say goodbye to him." He'd thought those words over and over for years, and it was only then that he spoke them aloud.

Zani put a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "So many things we thought would be different then!" she lamented. "You must find it in your heart to forgive him." Her gaze fell to the ground. "He carried the weight of the galaxy on his shoulders, and that broke him. Lesser people would've been crushed much, much sooner."

"I'm working on that," he grumbled.

"Remember that he did save our lives, Elnor, as well as hundreds of thousands of our people – and he received no thanks for it, not even from his own people."

* * *

"Who was Picard?" Julie asked. She'd given him his space during the walk from the Sanctuary to the spaceport. While Herve made his final pre-flight checks, Elnor took one last look at North Station. He couldn't see much in the darkness.

Elnor welcomed her into his arms. "He was the Starfleet admiral who oversaw our relocation to Vashti. He was the closest thing to father I've ever known. But when the Federation abandoned the rescue effort, he left and never came back."

"That was a terrible time," she offered, gently laying her head on his chest. "No wonder you're so brave and strong, my hero."

He buried his face in her hair, taking in her sweet scent. "After today, I will have lost all of my family."

"No, dearest," she said. "You're gaining a new family."

_Change is the essence of life_, Zani used to say. _If you're not changing, you're not living._

Cradling her face in his hands, Elnor captured her lips, savoring their soft caress. He was getting good at kissing. He was a quick study by nature – and never had he been more eager to learn. He felt her hands climb up his back, pulling him closer, sending tingles along his spine. Her lips begged him for more.

It was all worth it, leaving behind everything and everyone he'd known. He was ready to change, ready for a new life. Ready to start a new family with Julene.

* * *

Tristan eyed Julene and Elnor with undisguised suspicion. _I think I'm going to be sick._

Did they honestly think they'd get anywhere with Julie's father? Rolling his eyes, he checked the status of his program on his handheld device.

_Still working… _How long did it need to take?

With a sigh, he reminded himself that the Romulan Freestate databases were largely incomplete. In the chaos of the relocation and the following destruction of the Empire, the majority of records were lost. Fortunately, military records had been a priority, so there was a good chance Tristan would learn everything he needed to know about Dellina Motrim and Veren Jatohk.

_Searching ..._

This wasn't only about jealousy, he insisted to himself. He cared deeply about Julene. There was no way in hell he'd let her become entangled with some bozo carrying scandalous baggage. If Elnor's family checked out … well, he supposed he could be happy for her. But, he doubted that would be the case.

If he was truthful, at least to himself, he felt defensive at Elnor's accusation that he ordered Julene around and never considered what she wanted. Was it true?

Whether it was or not, he determined to prove his rival wrong. It's wasn't like Elnor would win over the family anyway. They would tell Julene the same thing he did. They'd send Elnor packing back to Vashti. Her heart would be broken. Then Tristan would scoop her up on the rebound.

Since he was on the subject of honesty, he had to admit he wasn't madly in love with her. He didn't feel the same way she and Elnor apparently felt for each other. Tristan wasn't sure about the whole love thing, the insanity that caused people to give up thrones and birthrights – even if he was supposedly the result of such sentiments. Of course, he wanted Julene. He'd always felt like she belonged to him, just like the throne. Who else would he marry, except his chère Jolie, the heir to the kingdom that was rightly his in the first place?

Was this love? Whatever it was, it was more than good enough for him. He didn't want anyone else but Julene, so why settle for someone else?

For Julene's part, this must be just a fling. Yes, he was certain of that. She possessed a romantic nature, and Tristan simply hadn't been romantic enough. He'd miscalculated. It wouldn't happen again. Once this nonsense ran its course and that peasant was sent on his way, Tristan would spend more time with her. He'd court her properly.

He sighed. He'd even start showing up at church with her.

The last time he'd darkened the door of the cathedral, Père Judoc had approached him with a knowing smile. _Haven't seen you at Mass lately, Prince Tristan._

_Really, father?_ he'd responded smoothly, _I can't imagine why._

His device vibrated. His crawlers had finished scouring the databases.

The results were the last thing in the galaxy he expected to find. "Merde," he hissed. Just like that, everything changed.

A muscle in his neck cramped. If he was frustrated before, now he was fit to be tied. He wanted to kill something. It just wasn't fair.

Only Paol heard him. "Plan B?" he asked quietly.

Paol was quick – he hadn't gotten the job as Tristan's aide for nothing. They'd discussed backup schemes for possible outcomes such as this. Just not this specifically, because neither of them anticipated it. His aide also knew how to deal with his temper: no sympathetic shoulders for crying on – solutions, damn it!

If he'd learned anything in his life thus far, it was how to adapt and make his own destiny. "Yes," he said, when he realized Paol stood waiting for an answer. "But I need a drink first."

"Very good, my prince. I have just the thing. You'll soon feel like a new man."

Tristan pinched the bridge of his nose. "As long as it doesn't involve champagne. I'm not ready for that."

"No champagne," Paol promised. With that, he went up the gangway into the ship to go prepare his magic remedy.

Resisting the urge to throw his device against the nearest wall, Tristan looked back to his cousin and her paramour. They were still at it. "C'mon, you two," he grumbled. "Time to go."

* * *

The _Altan _left Vashti's orbit, gliding through the silence of space. Clouds of dust and particles shimmered in the ship's wake, reflecting light from the sun.

Elnor stared out of the window at the planet that had been his home for most of his life. He barely remembered when he'd first seen Vashti from this view as a child. He hadn't gone to space since.

It was from this vantage, where he got a sense of the vastness of space and time, that he could see how impossible some promises were to fulfill. Would he ever return?

Like Picard, he'd imagined he would come back someday while standing in the warmth of the Sanctuary beneath the bows of its mighty tree. But here, leaving orbit and already worlds away, he understood how a thousand other priorities could suddenly take on more importance. He resolved to hold on to Zani's advice and find forgiveness for his old mentor.

He pressed his hand to the glass. _Goodbye, Zani. What will I do without your wisdom to guide me?_

Julene appeared at his side. She slid her arm around his waist. "It's beautiful. I will miss Vashti, too."

Elnor rested his head on hers. "You were right. I've gained a new family. You are my world now, Julie."

He leaned down to kiss her, when suddenly the ship rocked. He caught her to keep her from falling, nearly losing his own balance. He crashed into the bulkhead, catching her in his arms. It might have been a delightful happenstance - her falling on top of him like that - if the situation wasn't serious.

"We're being fired upon," Herve reported. "Not sure who's attacking."

On the viewscreen, a ship registered. Elnor thought the design looked familiar, but ship configurations were not his forte. Was it from a history lesson that he'd seen the design before?

Tristan squinted at the screen in disbelief. "Is that …?"

"An old bird-of-prey," Herve confirmed. He scanned his console for information.

"That thing has to be older than my grandmother," said the prince.

"Reports say it's owned by Kar Kantar," Herve added after a glance at his screen.

Tristan gritted his teeth. "The crook still wants his ransom."

"And now he has both of you," Elnor remarked gravely. He readied himself. They wouldn't take Julene again without a fight.

Herve disagreed. "He'll have to catch us first." Activating the controls, he eased the ship into full impulse, breaking away from the planet's orbit.

The ship jolted a second time.

Herve cursed. "Warp is disabled. It's only temporary. Our shields are holding."

"What's 'temporary' mean?" Tristan demanded.

"The damage isn't severe. Systems are repairing themselves. We'll have warp back in a few minutes."

"Do we _have_ a few minutes?"

"I don't know, prince. I'll evade them until we're back online."

Elnor held Julie close at the next lurch, her head narrowly missing the bulkhead.

"Shields failing," Herve said. "I'm sorry, my prince. There's nothing else I can do. They have us."

Elnor drew his sword. "Not if I have a say in it." These people were his new family, and he wasn't about to let some petty warlord steal them away from him. He'd even defend Tristan, though he didn't deserve it.

"Arm yourselves, everyone!" Tristan barked, grabbing a disruptor. Herve already wore a sidearm, and Paol reluctantly obtained one from underneath the nearest station.

Julene held her weapon ready and braced for the conflict. Elnor could tell she still wasn't used to danger. "Stay close to me," he told her quietly. "I'll protect you, my love."

She looked up at him, her expression gaining confidence. She believed in him, and Elnor's resolve grew stronger. He would not fail her, no matter what happened. And when this was over, he'd train her in self-defense.

"Wait! Scanners detecting a new ship in the vicinity." Herve's face brightened. "_USS Enterprise_!"

* * *

**A/N: **Yes, this story is AU. It's as much of a surprise to me!

My original intention was to make it fit into the canon as a prequel. But, as many of you other writers understand, characters sometimes make different decisions and take the story in new directions. The words of Akira Kurosawa come to mind: "The role of the artist is to not look away."

This is the first time I've written these characters for this length of a wordcount. I've discovered so many things about them! Julene, of course, is new. I wanted her to face the same dilemma as Tristan's mother, wanting to marry for love and struggling to become her own person amidst family and state responsabilites. Writing Elnor is also new to me, and at first I didn't see how resolved he can be – although it makes perfect sense in hindsight. While he's quite different from most Romulans, one thing he does have in common is that he's very decisive. When Romulans fall in love, it's all the way.

Tristan, as many of my older followers know, has been in my head for a long time. Although he is at heart a good man, I didn't realize he has a proud and scheming side – he seems to have inherited more of his father's Romulan traits, and uses his human side to serve those ambitions. Despite being only half-Romulan, it seems he's closer to a typical Romulan than Elnor. He'll be in serious trouble when he truly does fall in love! ;-)

Thank you so much for all of your kind reviews and PMs! Your support means the world to me! Another couple of chapters to go!


	15. As Fate Would Have It

"The _Enterprise?_ What's a Federation ship doing out here?" Tristan asked.

"I have no idea," Herve cried. "But they're helping us! Kantar is withdrawing. Captain Worf offers us assistance."

"Accept," said Tristan.

Herve and Paol looked at their leader in disbelief. The people of Nua Breizh generally prided themselves on getting along just fine without Federation support, and this command surprised them.

Tristan folded his arms. "We are _not_ going back to Vashti."

The _Enterprise_ guided the disabled _Altan _into a waiting docking bay, where an engineering crew would help them make repairs.

It seemed to Elnor that all poor Herve did was repair their ship, but he didn't seem to have a problem with the arrangement. At least this time he'd have professional help – and then they could be back on their way soon.

The _Enterprise_. Mister Worf. Elnor had heard these names before. He recalled those moonlit nights when Picard told him stories about his old ship and his Klingon security chief. Was this captain the same Mr. Worf? The warrior in him hoped so. While many on Vashti still clung to the old hatred of Klingons, Elnor didn't see how that outdated way of thinking applied to him. He'd never even met a Klingon. He was more curious about them than anything else – and about Worf in particular, since Picard had spoken of him with high regard.

As it turned out, Worf was not the only familiar name. Commander Geordi LaForge met them in the docking bay. Picard was always talking to LaForge, Elnor remembered, when the Federation was building their fleet on Mars to rescue his people. That was, before those shipyards were destroyed and the Federation decided to abandon billions of his people.

Elnor pushed that thought away. _No good will come from that path_, Zani had reminded both him and anyone else who spoke about their misfortune with bitterness. _Focus on the future._

"I've never been on a Federation starship before," Julene said quietly.

He could hear the uncertainty in her voice. In the voices of everyone around him. "We will be safe," he assured her. "The Federation isn't malicious. They just don't keep their promises."

"He's right," Tristan agreed. "We'll be fine."

A further surprise came when Tristan recognized LaForge. He offered a courtly bow. "Commander, I am Prince Tristan of Nua Breizh. This is my cousin, Princess Julene," he indicated in her direction, "our captain and chief mechanic, Herve. My aide, Paol … and Elnor."

LaForge smiled. "Nua Breizh, eh? Your daddy wouldn't happen to be a guy I got stranded with on Galorndon Core, would he?"

Now it was Tristan's turn to smile. "He would indeed."

"You're the spitting image of him." LaForge chuckled.

"That's what everyone tells me."

"Tell him I said hi when you get back home." He turned to his team. "Okay, people, let's get to work on these repairs."

Elnor observed the conversation with interest. LaForge knew Tristan's father? He made a mental note to ask Julene about it later. As he walked down the gangplank, he caught LaForge's eye.

"We had a mutual friend in common, too, didn't we?"

"Admiral Picard," Elnor confirmed. "I didn't know if he ever mentioned me."

"He did mention you. In fact," he gripped the side of his PADD, his optical implants filling with sincerity, "he said more than once that you were a reason he fought as hard as he did to keep the mission going. He took it hard when Starfleet shut him down."

Elnor felt a rush of emotion swell within him. Words choked inside his throat, and all he could do was nod in acknowledgment.

LaForge gripped his shoulder. "Let's catch up before you leave, okay?" With that, he joined Herve and they began to discuss the repairs.

Tristan blinked. "You knew Picard?"

Elnor nodded, still unable to speak.

"It seems you're full of surprises," Tristan remarked.

* * *

Later on, LaForge sat with Elnor and Julene in the _Enterprise_ mess hall. Captain Worf joined them.

"I have never met a Qowat Milat in battle," said the Klingon.

"Obviously," Elnor answered. "You're still alive." He hadn't meant it to sound hostile, he merely stated a fact. Everyone knew the Qowat Milat were the greatest single combat fighters in the galaxy.

Worf's eyes flickered. "Is that a challenge?"

Elnor shrugged. "Only if you wish it to be." He sensed Julene tense beside him. "I have no reason to fight you, Captain. But if I must, I will."

"Woah," said Geordi. "Hold your horses, you two. There's nothing to prove here."

Worf noticed Julene's apprehension. "Forgive my warrior's bearing, princess. I am a Klingon. We like to test our skill against worthy opponents. But I will not fight your _par'Mach'kai_."

"What's going on over here?" A matronly woman approached their table. She carried a tray with glasses of some dark liquid, enough for everyone at the table. "I'd rather not have a Klingon/Romulan pissing contest today, if you please, captain." She shook her head. "I come back for one trip - as a passenger - and suddenly the _Enterprise_ crew can't stay out of trouble without me."

Her glowing tawny skin and sparkling brown eyes reminded Elnor very much of Zani. Though he suspected this lady must be considerably older. She seemed to posses a wisdom of centuries, and carried a poise of timelessness all at once. Elnor instantly liked her.

"Guinan," Geordi greeted her, "just in time. I honestly don't know how we got along without you. Gonna miss you when you have to leave again."

She set a glass down in front of each of them, raising a brow. "We'll treasure the time we do have, Geordi."

"What's this?" Elnor asked.

"A warrior's drink," Worf supplied.

Intrigued, the young Romulan took a sip and savored its deep, sweet taste. It was interesting – thick, almost like a wine, but he didn't taste any alcohol.

Julene tasted hers, then giggled. "Prune juice?"

"Of course!" said Guinan. "Guaranteed to tame the wildest of warriors."

Worf threw his head back and laughed sarcastically.

"See?" Guinan lifted her tray off the table in triumph. "I told you."

* * *

Although he'd been offered accommodations on the _Enterprise_, Tristan preferred his own quarters on the _Altan_. He'd already taken a tour of the impressive starship, and he was grateful to LaForge and his crew for their help. While Julene and Elnor socialized with their newfound friends, he had work to do.

Leaning back in his chair, he puffed on his cigar. This trip had been … altering, to put it mildly. And, he had an interesting bit of news to report to his father when he got back.

Paol appeared with his supper, setting the tray down on the desk.

"Please retrieve that list of marriage prospects," said Tristan. "I want to go over it this evening."

"Of course, my prince." Then, after a moment's hesitation, he added. "I am truly sorry."

"I appreciate that, Paol." At least someone understood how much the whole affair wounded him. "Now, let us waste no more time mourning what might have been."

Yes, he would help Julene and Elnor after all. He held considerable confidence that his parents might lend aid as well. With their united front, Julene's father would not – could not – refuse the marriage. And all the while, Tristan would make certain to raise his own heirs to be far more charming and persuasive than he'd been. True love would triumph once more, with a little planning and tender guidance in the background. His family ambitions would be delayed by another generation, that was all. His mother would likely still live to see her grandchildren reign.

"Your cousin and Elnor have returned," Herve informed him from the doorway. "Shall we depart?"

"Yes, thank you, Herve. Please ask them to come in here. I need to speak with them."

After a few minutes, the couple entered. Holding hands, they fortified themselves for more objections to their relationship. They were determined to face whatever storms blew their way. Like two sparrows in a hurricane.

Witnessing their resolve made Tristan felt like a jerk. _Perhaps__ I am a jerk?_ he considered. Even if that were true, what he was about to say would please them. "I did some checking up on your parents," he began.

"What about them?" Elnor braced himself in anticipation.

"As fate would have it," Tristan continued, "you're not a hayseed. The Houses of Panclus and Eta are as noble as they come, without actually being royalty. You do have a right to marry Julene," he admitted, begrudgingly.

Elnor's eyes widened. "How did you find that out? Zani thought the records were lost."

"To her, they were," Tristan answered. "And probably to anyone else on a backwater world like Vashti. I have more sophisticated means at my disposal."

"What happened to Elnor's parents?" Julene asked.

"It is as he said: Dellina Motrim and Veren Jatohk held a keen sense of duty. Despite their status, they felt compelled to pledge their lives to the Empire. They served under a senator named Vreenak, and along with him, they courageously gave their lives to uncover a Dominion plot to break their non-aggression treaty."

Elnor sat down, taking in this shocking, albeit favorable, development.

"Apparently, you were supposed to remain under the care of your grandmother, Senator Rimal. But she was killed soon afterwards when that Reman upstart assassinated the entire Senate." The prince shrugged. "I found no more information after that. Somehow, you ended up with Zani during the relocation effort."

Julene was delighted. "Oh, Tristan! Thank you! You didn't have to share this discovery, and I'm so grateful you did." She threw her arms around him and kissed his cheek.

"I would do anything for you, Julie," he returned, savoring her tender gratitude in the knowledge that it was the most he'd ever get. "Even let you go."

* * *

Later that evening, Tristan burst into Elnor's quarters, with Paol in tow. "We have work to do," he announced.

Elnor narrowed his eyes. He'd been meditating, turning over in his mind and trying to resolve the chaos that had become his life of late. An interruption from Tristan was the last thing he wanted. "What's brought on this change anyway? I'm still not certain if I should trust you."

"Haven't I bowed out like a gentleman? You'll need all the allies you can get if you're to play this game."

"I'm not interested in politics or power," said Elnor.

Tristan scoffed. "You're going to marry a princess, an heir to a throne. And like it or not, it's already in your blood. You'd better _get_ interested."

"You haven't told me why you're suddenly willing to help us. I thought you wanted to marry Julene yourself?"

Tristan threw his hands in the air. "I did. But she's chosen you, the silly girl. You think I intend to force her to marry me? I'm not the brute you seem to believe I am."

Elnor still had his doubts about the latter point. Julene wasn't a 'silly girl,' regardless of whether or not he deserved her.

"She should marry whomever she chooses," said Tristan, as though it was suddenly some kind of personal principle he'd held the entire time.

"That's the first thing you've said I can agree with."

"Besides, fresh blood is never a bad thing. Our family isn't as bad off as some I've heard about." He shuddered at the idea. "But if Julene and I had married, our entire extended family would've been too closely related for another marriage between our kin. Our children would have turned outward by necessity anyway."

He fingered one end of his thin mustache. "Okay, Paol, we have seven days until we get home. Seven days to make Elnor look like a fitting suitor for the hand of fair Princess Julene."

Paol examined Elnor and sighed. "Of course, my prince."

"First and foremost: the hair." He roughly grabbed a handful at the ends, "it needs to be shorter."

Elnor snatched it back, put out that his "former" rival was inspecting him like that – almost like a merchant scrutinizing chattel. "Shorter?"

"Yes, _mon __ami_! It's longer than Julene's – that's a problem. Her dad will flip. You can keep it at your shoulders, at the longest."

Elnor shrugged, still not convinced Tristan considered him a friend. "I don't care. I was thinking about cutting it anyway, since I'm no longer with the Qowat Milat."

"Don't worry," he assured him with a wicked grin, enjoying the proverbial ripping his subject to shreds, "we won't give you one of those hideous military cuts."

"Too twenty-fourth century," Paol agreed.

Somehow, Elnor wasn't reassured. "Just don't make me look like a ..." he searched his memory for that sea shanty they sang a few days earlier, "a … 'randy dandy' or anything. I'm a warrior."

"Yes, yes." Tristan waved his words away like he might have shooed a cloud of gnats. "Next, we'll have to persuade my mother to give you knighthood – and that _won't_ be easy."

"The queen is of a romantic nature," Paol pointed out. "I suggest we approach the task from that angle."

Tristan agreed, then looked back to Elnor. "Ready to give up yet?"

"I will never abandon Julie," he insisted.

"Just checking." Tristan rubbed his hands together. "Because you've opened the infamous _Box of Hihes_. I hope you're aware of that."

Again, Elnor shrugged. Ancient Romulan myths didn't intimidate him.

"If we can gain Lord Bochra's sympathy for the venture as well," Paol continued, "we will have a greater chance of success."

Tristan's wicked expression fell. "My father is about as sympathetic as a crocodile."

"Nevertheless, my prince," Paol countered, "he has mellowed over the years. And he's demonstrated considerable tenderness with regard to your mother's wishes..."

Elnor stopped listening to their scheming. All he really wanted was to be with Julene. This plotting and plans to teach him protocol – to mold him into a proper suitor – bored him to no end.

He managed to slip out without their noticing. They were too deep in discussion to need him right then anyway. Which was probably why they let him leave. For the moment.

Slipping into the common area, he found Julene gazing out of a panoramic viewing window. Stars raced past them in streaks of red, blue, and gold beams of light. The starlight illuminated her soft features, casting a silvery glow on her skin, and setting her hair aflame.

His breath caught in his chest. Her beauty never ceased to move him. The danger and intrigue in all its forms he'd experienced over the last few weeks – not to mention the difficulties yet to come – she was worth all of it. He'd fought for her, killed for her. And he'd do it again without hesitation.

Pulling himself together, he went over and wrapped his arms around her waist, taking in the sweet scent of her hair. He never tired of her delicate essence – so alien, yet no less delightful. "I love you, Julie," he whispered in her rounded ear. "My bewitching human girl."

"I love you, my brave Romulan hero," she returned with a soft chuckle.

They stared out into the mysterious void of space. Whatever happened next, they would face it together.


	16. Epilogue

Evening settled on a quiet North Station, the suns bathing the landscape in rays of gold and crimson. In the center of the settlement, the mighty boughs of an imposing hardwood tree swayed gently in the cooling air. Already, one of the moons ascended above the horizon, its light trickling through gaps in the branches.

The Sanctuary had changed little since Elnor left, over three years ago. All the wonderful memories flooded back to him, tumbling through his mind, much like when he'd rolled around in the freshly cut hay as a boy. Aromas of earth and the new harvest wafted to his nose. _Flarewings_ glowed softly as they drifted all around them and into the darkness as far as could be seen – just as they had when he left for Nua Breizh to marry Julene.

He glanced down at the toddler clutching one of his fingers in her tiny fist. "This is Zani," he told her.

The child's sea-green eyes searched his in askance. "Dah-nee?" It was a two-year-old's best effort.

Zani laughed with delight and held out her arms.

"Go on," Elnor encouraged his daughter.

With a giggle, she scampered into Zani's embrace, her dark curls bouncing with each step. Pure joy spread across the elder woman's face as she held the girl close. "What a darling, beautiful child! Elnor, you should be proud of her."

"I am," he returned.

Julene drew closer to him and rested her cheek on his shoulder. "He loves showing her off. He takes every opportunity. I don't know who's worse, Elnor or Tristan." She rolled her eyes.

"How is your cousin, the prince?" Zani inquired.

"Happily married with a boy of his own, and another baby on the way. We found out the news right before we left to come here."

"He's just trying to outdo us," Elnor grumbled.

"Now, now, my love," Julie chided, playfully tapping his nose. "Tristan has as much a right to happiness as we do."

After savoring the moment with the toddler a while longer, Zani returned her to her mother. "I have something for you," she told Elnor. Reaching into a nearby cabinet, she retrieved a long, shallow box and gave it to him.

The box was wrapped in burgundy paper, with a small crafter's fleur-de-lis logo emblazoned on its lid. "It's from Earth?" he asked.

Zani nodded. "France. It arrived not long after you left."

Elnor stopped. He could guess who might have sent it. Untying the black velvet ribbon, he slowly lifted the lid. Inside, the steel blade of an ancient-style rapier flashed in the candlelight. A truly elegant weapon, it was worthy of d'Artagnan himself. On top was a folded note, which read:

_Dear Mr. Elnor:_

_Greetings from La Barre, France, on Earth. I hope this note finds you well._

_Admiral Picard desired you to have this rapier, which he commissioned especially for you. I regret he is unable to deliver his gift to you in person as he planned. If you have not already learned by now, it is my sad duty to inform you that he died on October 31, 2399. At 94, his health had been declining for a long time._

_If you have any questions or would like to speak, please don't hesitate to contact me._

_Warm regards,_

_Zhaban_

_Estate Executor_

_Chateau Picard_

He gave the note to Julie.

"What a thoughtful gift," she said, after she'd read the message. "I wish I could have met the admiral. He sounds like he was an extraordinary man."

"He was," Elnor agreed. "I feel sad that he's gone."

Zani seemed to always know the right words to say. "We will treasure the memory of Admiral Jean-Luc Picard. And now, you have an heirloom to pass down to your children, so that they will likewise remember him."

Elnor examined the sword, admiring the master craftsmanship that must have gone into creating it. "It's amazing," he breathed.

Feeling a tug on his trouser leg, he found himself smiling down at his pretty daughter. She lifted her little hands up, trying to touch the weapon. Her eyes widened with eagerness. Already, she displayed the characteristics of curiosity and a desire for exploration.

"What do you say, little one?" he asked her. "Shall I teach you to fence when you're older?"


End file.
